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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  87i2-4S03 


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92 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


On  thee  close  Humphrey  pressed,  and  Green- 
Prevost  not  far  behind  was  seen — 

All  names  that  glory  owns. 
Nor  Thayer,  Blythe,  and  Stedman  less, 
Did  for  her  crowns  their  thirst  confess, 

Tho'  danger  scowling  stood 
Upon  their  path,  and  warned  them  back, 

Not  such  the  moment  to  retrack 

Their  steps,  however  rued. 


The  battle-cloud  enclosed  them  round — 
Impenetrably  dun — profound. 
The  eye  no  sight,  the  ear  no  sound. 
But  wreathing  smoke  and  dread  rebound, 

Of  loud  artillery  met. 
Save  that  from  out  the  embodied  smoke. 
At  times  a  vivid  lightning  broke, 
And  shout  of  battling  men  who  spoke. 
Through  deep -toned  trumpets,  and  awoke 

A  clangor  louder  yet, 
Than  rose  the  canon's  answered  peal, 
Concussive  shell  and  clashing  steel  5 
Than  these  nought  did  those  clouds  reveal. 
But  where  are  those  whose  desperate  zeal, 
Led  to  yon  parapet  ? 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC.  93 

Say  did  they  thence  with  pauseless  spring, 
Dash  maddening  midst  the  serried  ring, 
Where  life  had  been  a  worthless  thing, 
Arid  valour  would  but  sooner  bring, 

The  stroke  which  was  to  set 
W  ith  one  brief,  last,  tho'  welcomed  pain, 
The  spirit  free  from  earthly  chain  ? 
What  matter  so  release  it  gain. 
If  sabre  opes  the  bubbling  vein, 

Or  ball,  or  bayonet  ? 
Humphrey',  that  daring  was  thy  last. 
Blythe  I  from  thine  eyes  the  ardour  past. 
There  Stedman  I  thine  were  overcast, 

With  the  dull  shades  of  fate. 
There,  Hendrick,  glanced  thy  sword's  last  wavel 
'Twas  freedom  lit  ye  to  the  grave— 
'Twas  glory  I  vengeance — hate . 

But  how  with  Morgan  goes  the  fight  ? 

In  front — almost  alone, 
Unpalled  that  arm's  elastic  might, 
He  struggles  still  in  fate's  despite : 

One  moment— all  is  done  I 
His  ranks  are  raked  by  every  shot ; 

Thinned  fearfully  and  broken. 


94 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUIBEC. 


Their  rifles  now  avail  them  nought, 
And  numbers  have  a  covert  sought ; 

Hope's  last  adieu  is  spoken. 
*Tis  done  !  he  sounds  the  late  retreat — 

Too  late  alas  !  for  them. 
In  front  fresh  enemies  they  meet, 
Fresh  for  the  toil  of  battle  feat. 

And  vi^ilt  thou  strive  to  stem 
Their  course,  nor  now  thy  sword  resign? 
Bends  not  that  towering  soul  of  thine  .^ 


"  We  still,  he  cried,  may  force  our  way, 

Determined  if  we  be. 
Through  yonder  panoplied  array  : 
Ere  spoke  I  hear  your  answer — nay- 
Then  must  I  stay  with  ye. 
This  dalliance  does  but  seal  your  doom, 
To  captive's  chains  and  dungeon's  gloom. 
To  rebel's  death  and  distant  tomb. 

Where  Britain  specks  the  sea. 
Ye  fondly  hope  our  valiant  chief, 
May  bring  ye  here  the  wished  relief : 

Hope  on,  but  as  for  me 
From  him  no  succour  I  await- 
E'en  should  he  come  it  were  too  late  : 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

And  ye  may  now  implore  your  fate, 

From  British  clemency  I 
Unless  ye  choose  to  meet  the  death, 
Rather  than  draw  a  cap:ive's  breath, 

To  part  with  on  the  tree. 
Ye  hear  the  challenge  of  the  foe— 
Nor  this  ye  will— then,  be  it  so. 

Briton,  they  yield  to  thee, 
Tho'  yet  believe  against  my  will, 
But  for  their  hopes  this  blade  had  still, 

Been  grasped  to  set  us  free.'^ 

Hushed  is  the  clang  of  battle  fray, 
Dispers'd  the  cloud  so  darkly  gray  ; 
The  pall  for  those  beneath  that  lay 
In  glory's  bed— and  captives  they 

To  Britain,  that  survive. 
But  where,  ah  I  where  art  thou  the  chief, 
Whose  mien  was  greatness  in  relief? 

Where  nature  seemed  to  strive, 
To  blend  each  noble,  manly  trait  5 
The  eye  where  genius'  fires  dilate, 

The  open— generous  brow— 
The  perfect  stature,  tall  and  fair, 
The  changing  cheek  that  might  not  share, 


95 


96 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


The  unfeeling  hue  the  callous  bear — 
The  blush  of  shame  the  guilty  wear- 
Montgomery  !  where  art  thou  ? 
'Neath  Diamond's  dizzy  beetling  head, 
Whose  foot  a  narrow  path  forbade 
The  Bay  to  lave-— was  such  so  dread, 
So  barred  by  ice  to  stay  thy  tread, 

And  awe  thee  to  retire  ? 
It  could  not  be  such  arm  as  thine. 
Should  its  full  share  of  toil  decline, 
Or  thus  the  enterprise  resign  5 
Then  why  rose  not  thy  fire, 
To  answer  that  which  Arnold  lit ; 
Morgan  to  flag  would  not  permit. 

Though  strewed  his  men  the  ground  ! 
Ah !  could  they  still  have  held  the  hope, 
Thy  blade  to  them  a  way  would  ope, 
Still  had  that  remnant  dar'd  to  cope. 
With  all  that  might  surround. 


Dull  passed  the  day — ^night  came,  but  threw 
On  captive's  lot  no  gloomier  hue. 
Alas !  too  dark  for  darker  shade— 
What  thoughts  their  bosoms  shall  invade ! 
Yet  Carleton  was  no  ruthless  foe — 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


97 


At  least  his  treatment  spake  not  so. 

But  what  irks  it  the  bird  of  Jove, 

That  her  chain  be  light  if  strong  it  prove  ? 

And  what  to  the  lion  is  the  bounded  range 

Of  the  park,  if  such  he  may  not  change 

For  his  forest  home  ?  alas,  as  well 

Were  he  pent  within  the  narrov  cell. 

Small  rest  the  night  to  captive  brings  : 

Ah  I  fancy's  dark  imaginings, 

Will  crowd  upon  the  troubled  soul, 

Thoughts  which  it  waking  might  control. 

And  sleep  does  but  the  body  free, 

A  space  from  wonted  sympathy. 

For  each  with  each  must  sympathize, 

'Till  death  has  claimed  his  grey  hair'd  prize  5 

Save  when  the  last  may  find  repose, 

The  first  alas  !  too  seldom  knows. 

And  oft,  too  oft  the  dreamer  wakes 

To  weep  so  much  his  dream  partakes 

Of  sad  reality  the  form, 

The  sting— the  never  dying  worm. 

The  morning  came  but  far  too  gay  5 
All  yester's  clouds  had  passed  away. 
Alas  1  they  had  not  passed,  but  hung 


m 


98 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Each  bosom  o'er,  and  hanging  wrung. 
Not  o'er  their  sorrows  did  they  brood : 
The  anxious  inquiry  renew'd, 
"  Still  doth  he  live,"  met  no  reply, 
Save  from  a  Briton's  stifled  sigh. 
And  gaze  that  melted  as  it  turned ; 
In  these  all  their  despair  they  learned. 
They  closed  around  the  bier  where  lay 
He  whom  they  sought — 'twas  but  his  clay  I 

They  fain  would  not  believe  it  him  : 

They  gazed,  and  turn'd,  and  gazed  again. 
Distorted  feature,  shattered  limb. 

Seemed  doubtful,  but  seemed  thus  in  vain. 
In  vain !  hope  may  not  long  deceive ; 

Not  long  the  mind  from  sorrow  shield  ; 
Not  long  its  fairy  net  work  weave 

Around  it — it  ere  long  must  yield 
To  truth's  conviction  dread  and  dark, 

Too  poignant  for  most  stoic  breast. 
They  o'er  him  bent — nor  might  you  mark 

One  eye  that  spake  not  heart  distrest. 
Slow,  sad  and  deep  a  murmur  rose 

From  every  manly  soldier's  heart. 
No  I  even  they  may  not  compose, 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC.      99 

Sobs,  for  themselves  that  ne'er  would  start- 
Tears  for  themselves  they  never  shed  : 

But  when  they  bent  them  o'er  his  bier, 
O  I  they  had  been  to  feeling  dead, 

Had  sorrow  thence  distilled  no  tear. 
In  these  each  rugged  soldier  sought 

For  generous  sorrow,  faint  relief  5 
And  on  the  sighing  breeze  was  brought, 

A  dirge  that  spoke  a  comrade's  grief. 

My  chieftain !  I  weep  o'er  thy  fall, 

Nor  am  I  alone  in  my  grief: 
The  bud  of  thy  promise  was  witnessed  by  all, 

And  but  now  was  expanded  the  leaf. 
Oh  1  why  was  not  one  little  hour, 

Drawn  out  to  complete  the  fair  bloom  : 
To   display  to  the  gaze  the  full  tints  of  the 
flower, 

Ere  they  all  should  be  swept  to  the  tomb. 
From  thy  soul  beaming  eyes  ere  thefire  had  fled: 
But  no  1  it  sleeps  not  'neath  the  turf  o'er  the  dead. 

It  slumbers  not  there  nor  yet  here, 

In  our  breasts  where  its  flame  is  tranferred, 
Surviving  the  wreck  of  that  form  without  peer, 


100  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Whose  daring  no  danger  deterred. 
How  oft  have  we  gazed  with  delight, 

On  thy  features  where  greatness  sat  throned, 
And  listed  thy  eloquence  soar  in  its  might, 

Confessing  the  magic  it  owned. 
Now  tho*  wrapt  in  that  silence  of  all  the  most 

still, 
The  last  accents  we  heard  through  our  bleak 

bosoms  thrill. 

Thou  art  mourned  by  the  high  and  the  low- 
By  the  faithless,  as  well  as  the  true- 
By  the  country  thou  fought'st  for,  and  e*en  by 
her  foe. 
Nor  envy  her  sting  shall  reneWo 
Thy  mem'ry  not  calumny  taint. 

But  truth  shall  preside  o'er  thy  fame : 
Thy  virtues,  thy  brav'ry  th'  historian  paint- 
Posterity  dwell  on  thy  name ! 
And  pronouncing  it  ever  with  energy's  fire, 
Thy  spirit  shall  long  generations  respire. 


We  will  make  thee  a  home  distant  grave. 

E'en  here  in  an  enemy's  land. 
But  not  long  shall  the  rank  grass  over  it  wave, 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC.  101 

Thy  country  her  son  shall  demand. 
These  relics  thy  brethren  shall  bear, 

From  this  to  a  worthier  clime, 
And  o'er  them  a  tomb  monumental  we'll  rear. 

That  shall  mock  the  slow  ravage  of  time. 
The  tribute  a  brave  people  pay  to  whose  sun, 
In  glory  has  set,  ere  its  zenith  was  won. 

Reader  I  I  bid  thee  now  a  long  farewell. 
There  be  but  few  would  grieve  if  'twere  the  last 
Lay  that  shall  fall— altho'  the  first  that's  fell, 
From  this  unpractised  harp— but  it  is  past. 
Its  latest  note  upon  the  air  is  cast, 

And  may  awake  no  more — so  let  it  be. 

Its  vault  heaven's  twinkling  gems  are  studding 
fast, 

And  all  is  silent  on  the  moon  lit  lea. 

And  so  should  be  my  strain— my  muse— fare- 
well to  thee. 


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N  O  T  K  S. 


In  President  Dwiglif s  Travels,  Vol.  HI.   p.  353,  is 
Slven    he  following  d.-oription  of  Lake    George:- 
« Take  George  is   universally  considered  as  bemg  m 
itself  an!  nt  environs,  the  most  beautiful  object  o  the 
Itf'nlreinthe  U.  S.     Several  European  travelle^ 
X  have  visited  it,  and  whohad  seen  the  celebratedwa- 
Te  s  of  Switzerland,  have  given  it  the  preference     The 
access  from  the  south  is  eminently  noble ,  being  fomed 
r  wo  vast  ranges  of  mountains,  which,  commencmg 
their  course  several  miles  south  of  F<>rt  George  extend 
WondPlattsburg.  and  te^inate  -ar  the  no^h  Ime  of 
the  state  occupying  a  distance  of  about  100  mues.  Those 
t  tt  It  are'higl  bold,  and  in  various  pUces  ..^d 
and  hoary.    Those  on  the  west  are  somewhat  mferioi, 
Ind  Lerally  covered  with  a  thick  forest  to  the>r  sum- 
:'s'   The  road  for  the  3  or  4  last  miles  passes  through 
a  forest  and  conceals  the  lake  from  the  view  »?  *«  t^" 
veller,  until  he  arrives  at  the  eminence  0"jv»uch  F°rt 
George  was  built.     Here  is  opened  at  ou.;=  »  t-.w^.,- 
the  splendour  of  which  is  rarely  exceeded. 


106  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

The  sceneiy  of  this  spot  may  be  advantageously  con- 
sidered under  the  following  heads.-  the  water,  the  isl- 
ands,  the  shore,  and  the  mountains. 
_    The  water  is  probably  not  s,u-passed  in  beauty  by  any 
m  the  world:  pure,  sweet,  pellucid,  of  an  elegant  hue 
when  immediately  under  the  eye,  and  at  a  very  small,  as 
well  as  at  a  greater  distance,  presenting  a  gay!  luminous 
azure,  and  appeanng  as  if  a  soft  lustre  undulated  eveiy 
where  on  its  surface,  with  a  continual  and  brilliant  ema- 
nation.     This  fine  object,  however,  is  visible  only  at  cer- 
tam  times,  and  perhaps  in  particular  positions.     While 
employed  on  its  shores,  or  in  sailing  upon  its  bosom,  the 
traveller  is  insensibly  led  into  an  habitual  and  irresistible 
consciousness  of  singular  salubrity,  sweetness  and  ele- 
gance.   During  the  mild  season  he  finds  an  additional 
pleasure.    The  warmth  of  the  water  on  the  surface  dif- 
fuses a  soft  and  pleasing  temperature;  cooler  in  the  day. 
and  warmer  in  the  evening,  than  that  of  the  shore;  and 
secunng  the  traveller    alike  from  inconvenience    and 
disease. 

The  islands  are  Interesting-  en  account  of  their  num. 
ber,  location,  size,  and  figure.  Their  number  is  very 
great-fancifully  computed  at  565.  Few  pieces  of  water 
and  none  within  my  knowledge  are  so  amply  furnished. 
Then,  location  is  exquisite~They  are  soJitaiV,  in  pairs, 
and  m  groups,  containing  from  3  to  perhaps  30;  arranged 
with  respect  to  each  other,  and  the  neighbouring  shores, 
with  unceasing  variety  and  ^vith  the  happiest  conceivable 
relations. 

^  Both  the  size  and  the  figure  of  these  Islands  are  varied 
m^the^same  delightful  manner.  The  size  chancres  from 
a  .cw  reet,  to  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length.  The"figure  of 
most  of  them  is  oblong;  a  small  number  are  round.     But 


THE  STOUMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


lor 


the  variety  of  their  appearance  is  peculiarly  derived  from 
theu-  surface.    A  small  number  of  them  are  naked  rocks, 
and  by  the  power  of  contrast  are  very  interesting  fea- 
tures in  the  aspect  of  the  group.     Some  are  partially, 
and  most  are  completely,  covered  with  vegetation.  Some 
are  bushy,  others  ornamented  with  a  single  tree, — with 
two,  three,  or  many;  and  those  with,  and  without  their 
bushy  attendants.     Others  still,  the  greater  number,  ex- 
hibit an  entire  forest.     Some  of  them,  of  a  long  and  nar- 
row structure,  present  through  various  openings  in  their 
umbrage,  the  sky,  the  mountains,  the  points,  and  other 
distant,  beautiful  objects,  changing  to  the  eye,  as  the  tra- 
veller approaches  and  passes  them.  On  some  stand  thick 
coppices,  impenetrably  interwoven.     On  a  great  multi- 
tude the  lofty  pine,  with  its  separate  boughs,  lifts  its 
head  above  every  other  tree,  waving  majestically  in  the 
sky.     On  others,  the  beach,  maple,  and  oak,  with  their 
clustering    branches,   and  lively  verdui-e,  present   the 
strongest  examples  of  thrifty  vegetation.     At  the  same 
time  on  a  number  not  small,  decayed,  bare,  and  falling 
trees  are  finely  contrasted  to  this  vivid  appearance.     He 
who  wishes  to  know  the  exquisite  and  diversified  beauty 
of  which  islands  are  capable,  must,  I  think,  cross  lake 
George. 

The  shores  of  this  lake  exhibit  a  similar  and  scarcely 
less  striking  aspect.  On  one  part  of  the  lake  you  are  pre- 
sented with  a  beach  of  light  coloured  sand,  forming  a 
long,  extended  border,  and  showing  the  purity  of  its  wa- 
ters in  the  strongest  light.  On  another  you  see  a  thick, 
dark  forest,  rising  immediately  from  the  rocky  shore, 
overhanging  and  obscuring  the  water  with  their  gloomy 

1 TT^-^  4.V.«  oV.rwt.£k  ic  cor»nnfrl  hv  n.  slno*nlar  sur#><>rk. 

UlllUrUU'C.     XlCl^^  viiv.  aiii-fx'!.'  iijO'.-,--'i J    o 1" 

The  next  bend  is  elliptical,  and  the  third  a  mere  inden- 


^'■^9^ 


108 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


The  points  also,  are  alternately  circular,  obtuse,  and 
acute  angles.  Not  a  small  number  of  them  are  long,  nar- 
row slips,  resembling  many  of  the  islands,  shooting  either 
horizontally  or  with  an  easy  declension,  far  into  the  lake; 
and  covered  as  are  all  the  others,  with  a  fine  variety  of 
forest.  In  many  places,  a  smoothly  sloping  margin,  for 
the  distance  of  1, 2,  or  3  miles  presents  a  cheerfiil  border, 
as  the  seat  of  present  or  future  cultivation.  In  many 
others,   mountainous  promontories  ascend  immediately 

from  the  water. 

The  beauties  of  the  shore,  and  of  the  islands  are  at  least 
doubled  by  being  imaged  in  the  fine  expanse  below; 
wh^^re  they  are  seen  in  perpetual  succession  depending 
with  additional  exquisiteness  of  form,  and  firmness  of  co- 
louring. 

The  mountains  as  already  remarked,  consist  of  two  great 
ranges,  bearing  the  lake  from  north  to  south.  The  west- 
ern range,  however,  passes  westward  of  the  N.  W.  Bay; 
at  the  head  of  which  a  vast  spur,  shooting  towards  the 
south  east,  forms  the  whole  of  the  peninsula  between  that 
bay  and  the  lake.  On  the  latter  it  abuts  with  great  majes- 
ty,  in  a  sudden  and  noble  eminence,  crowned  with  fine 
summits.  Fron  Jiis  spot,  14  miles  from  Fort  George,  it 
accompanies  the  lake  uninterruptedly  to  the  north  end, 
and  then  passes  on  towards  Canada.  Both  these  ranges 
alternately  approach  the  lake,  so  as  to  constitute  a  consi- 
derable part  of  its  shores;  and  recede  from  it  to  the  dis- 
tance sometimes,  of  three  miles. 

The  summits  of  these  mountains  are  of  almost  every  fi- 
gure from  the  arch  to  the  bold  bluff  and  sharp  cone,  and 
this  variety  is  almost  eveiy  where  visible.  In  some  in- 
stances they  are  bold,  solemn,  and  forbidding;  in  many 

thers,  tufted  with  lofty  trees.    While  casting  his  eye 


rn^  STORMING  Oi*  QUEBEC. 


109 


ovet  them  the  traveller  is  fascinated  with  the  iiriniense  va«» 
riety  of  swells,  uiidulations,  slopes,  and  summits,  pointed, 
and  arched,  with  their  piny  crowns;  now  near,  verdant 
and  vivid;  then  gradually  receding  and  becoming  more 
obscure,  until  the  scene  closes  in  imsty  confusion.  Nor  is 
be  less  awed  and  gratified  with  the  sudden  promontory, 
the  naked  cliff,  the  stupendous  precipice,  the  awful 
chasm,  the  sublime  and  varied  eminencCj  and  the  vast 
heaps  of  rude  and  rocky  grandeur  which  he  sees  thrown 
together  in  confusion  and  piled  upon  each  other  by  the 
magnificent  hand  of  nature. 

There  lies  the  rock  by  fire  shivered— p.  1"?. 
Between  Glenn  Falls  and  lake  George,  and  five  mile^ 
below  the  latter  place  there  is  a  rock  of  about  three  tons 
weight,  on  which  the  Indians,  during  the  French  War, 
burnt  their  prisoners.  The  rock  is  split  into  three  pieces 
by  fire.  Siiliman's  Tour  to  Quebec* 

And  there  lies  Bloody  Pond.— p.  17. 
Bloody  Pond  is  at  a  small  distance  from  the  rdad  on  the 
easlem  side,  somewhat  more  than  3  miles  south  of  Fort 
George.      On  the  8th  September,  1755,  a  battle  was 
fought  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  between  the  provincial 
troops  under  Major-General  afterwards  Sir  William  John- 
son, aided  by  a  body  of  Indians,  led  by  the  celebrated 
Hendrick,  and  a  body  of  French  Canadians  and  Indians, 
commanded  by  Bai-on  Dieskau.    After  a  sanguinary^con- 
flict,  in  which  the  Mohawk  chief.  Colonel  WiUiams,  and 
several  other  colomal  officers,  beside  a  large  number  of 
privates  were  kUled;  the  French  ren^rined  masters  of  the 

£-ij  __j  *i „  *!,«  o1o;t.  mfn  the  nona — ^which  circum- 

Stance  occasioned  the  name  it  now  bears. 

JkuighVa  Travelst  Vol  111. 
K 


IV  ! 


I 


110  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

But  ye  would  shudder  slwuld  I  tell 
Wlnit  that  brave  garrison  befell.— p.  18. 

The  Marquis  of  Montcalm,  after  three  ineffectual  at- 
tempts upon  Fort  WiUiam  Henry,  made  great  efforts  to 
besiege  it  in  form,  aiid  in  August  1757,  having  landed 
10,000  men  near  the  fort,  summoned  it  to  surrender. 
The  remains  of  his  batteries  and  other  works  are  still 
visible,  and  the  graves  and  bones  of  the  slain  are  occa- 
sionally discovered. 

He  had  a  powerful  train  of  artillery,  and  although  the 
fort  and  works  were  garrisoned  by  3000  men,  and  gal- 
lantly defended  by  tlie  commander  Colonel  Monroe,  it 
was  obliged  to  capitulate;  but  the  most  honourable  terms 
were  granted  to  Colonel  Monroe,  in  consideration  of  his 
great  gallantry. 

The  capitulation  was,  however,  most  shamefully  brok- 
en: the  Indians  attached  to  Montcalm's  army,  while  the 
troops  were  marching  out  of  the  gate  of  the  fort,  drag- 
ged the  men  from  the  ranks,  particularly  the  Indians  in 
the  Enghsh  service,  and  butchered  them  in  cold  blood. 
They  plundered  all  without  distinction,  and  murdered 
women  and  httle  children  with  circumstances  of  the  most 
aggravated  cruelty.  The  massacre  continued  all  along 
the  road,  through  the  defile  of  the  mountains,  and  for 
many  miles  tlie  miserable  prisoners,  especially  those  in 
the  rear,  were  tomahawked  and  hewn  down  in  cold 
blood;  it  might  well  be  called  the  bloody  defile,  for  it  was 
the  same  gi-ound  that  was  the  scene  of  the  battles  only 
two  years  before,  1755.  It  is  said  that  efforts  were  made 
by  the  I'rench  to  restrain  the  barbarians,  but  they  were 
not  restrained;  and  the  miserable  remnant  of  the  garrison 
M'ith  difficiiltv  reached  Vnri  V.rlwavA    r\^tr,^,io,A  u,r  *u^  t., 

.. ^ _ „„^i^,j  piixav*v\*  uy    ui'c  ill- 

dians,  although  escorted  by  a  body  of  French  troops.-  j 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Ill 


Fort  William  Henry  was  levelled  by  Montcalm,  and  has 
never  been  rebuilt.  Tour  to  Quebec. 


The  Chamblay  stands,  &c.— p.  31. 
Chamblay  is  built  quadrangularly  of  stone,  having  the 
appearance  of  a  castle,  the  only  one  of  the  kind  in  North 
America.  The  country  exhibits  a  romantic  prospect— 
the  river  in  this  place  shallow,  broken,  and  diffused, 
rushes  down  a  rocky  declivity.  The  elevated  mountain 
of  Chamblay  rears  itself  aloft  mid  level  lands;  and  con- 
fines, between  its  conical  summits,  a  lake  of  pure  water. 

Heriot. 

Or  to  Monte  Video's  summit  let  me  wind.— p.  64- 
A  spot  upon  the  highest  eminence  of  Talcot  Mountain 
in  Connecticut,  remarkable  for  the  extraordinary  beauty 
and  magnificence  of  its  scenery. 

Or  as  the  Louard 
To  warn  of  coming  storm. -p.  67. 

The  Louard  or  Loon  is  a  fowl  that  frequents  the  large 
rivers  and  lakes  of  Canada.  It  is  said  to  be  restless  be- 
fore a  storm,  always  announcing  it  with  a  very  loud  and 
shi'ill  cry,  which  may  be  heard  at  the  distance  of  more 
than  a  mile. 


For  by  my  bosom  Manitou  — p.  80. 
The  Indians,  beside  the  Great  Spirit  and  the  other 
gods  who  are  often  confounded  with  him,  have  an  infinite 
number  of  genii,  or  inferior  spirits,  both  good  and  evil, 
who  have  each  their  peculiar  form  of  worship.  They 
never  address  themselves  to  the  evil  genii,  except  to  beg 
of  them  to  do  them  no  hurt.  To  the  others  who,  in  the 
»» 1 ^^r.  /.oUori  nlrVJc   nnd  in  the  Alffonauin 

— Manitous,  they  have  recourse  in  all  perils  and  under- 
takings, as  also  when  they  would  obtain  some  extraordi- 


113 


THE  STOIIMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Ti  T"^  7."  """"'="'■"'  ''"^^^^'•' '»  "«t acquired 
Id  h  f  K  *'  P'^'""'  """<="  P'«P»™tio„  must  be 
rt    .  "'"  ''"''™  '*•  "  ''^'"e  looked  upon  a, 

the  most  important  affair  of  their  whole  lives.    The  prin. 

cipalcmjumstancesofitarethese: 

iJ^^^  ^^?  "1*  "*"'"'"«  *^  <='^'*»  ^''^'  afterwards 

^^^.Th.u  ,,"■'"■  "'^''*''''>"  '"e**"-  Whatever 
thmg  the  cluld  happens  to  dream  of  within  this  space  of 

time  IS  supposed  to  be  the  tutelaiy  genius,  or  rather,  this 

thing  ,s  held  as  a  symbol,  or  figure,  under  which  the 

gemus  manifests  himself-sometimes  it  is  the  head  of  a 

b|rd,  at  other  times  the  foot  of  some  animal  or  perhaps  a 

bit  of  wood,  m  a  word-the  vUest  and  most  common  tWnR 

imaginab  e.     This  is  preserved  however  with  as  much 

care  as  the  Du  Penates  or  household  gods  among  the 

This  soIemnity;ends  with  a  feast,  and  the  custom  is 
likewise  to  prick  on  the  body  of  the  child  the  figure  of   ' 
\m  Okki  or  Manitou.  6    ^  "* 

Charlevoix,  Letter  XXIV.  p.  212. 


MISCELLiAlVEOUS   PIECES. 


INVOCATIOX. 


O  !  thou  who  with  bewitching  spell, 
Can  teach  the  spirit  its  powers  to  ply, 
And  with  thy  influence  mild  impel, 
The  soul  to  soar  to  realms  on  high, 
And  sing  from  morning's  dawn  to  even. 
In  strains  of  loftiest  poetry; 
What  e*er  thou  art  yclept  in  heaven. 
What  e'er  on  earth  thy  name  may  be. 
Mysterious  one  !  where'er  thou  dost  reside, 
Whether  in  one  of  heaven's  twinkling  train, 
Or  in  some  conk  shell  'neath  the  murmuring 

tide, 
From  whence  thou  dost  inspire  the  poet's  strain, 
Or  whether  in  the  lonely  cave, 
Washed  by  old  ocean's  storm-tossed  wave, 
Or  through  some  rich  elysian  grove, 

With  fairy  spirits  thou  lov'st  to  rove. 

K2 


114 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


I  now  invoke  thee  to  impart 

A  spark  of  thy  seraphic  fire, 

Unto  this  young  ambitious  heart, 

That  pants  with  warm  enlarged  desire 

To  catch  the  influence  of  thy  heaven  bom  art, 

And  sweep  the  muse's  magic  Lyre. 


MEMORY. 

The  fairy  forms  that  hover  o'er 
The  dawning  of  those  early  days. 
When  fancy  just  begins  to  soar, 
And  sport  herself  in  heaven's  mild  rays, 
Have  power  upon  the  troubled  soul. 
E'en  after  they  have  vanished  by  : 
Their  lingering  trace  if  not  console, 

At  least  may  soothe  that  vacancy 

That  void  that  haunts  the  mind,  as  years  and 
pleasures  fly. 

When  hope's  divinest  visions  flit, 
And  leave  the  soul  in  darkness  drear, 
Oh !  who  would  wish  to  linger  yet, 
And  drag  a  joyless  life  out  here! 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES.  115 

O  !  who  would  ask  another  hour  ? 

Who  still  would  to  this  bleak  world  cling, 

0*er  whom  life's  charms  have  lost  their  power 

Whose  heart  retains  not  one  lone  string 
To  swell  responsive  to  the  wild  bird's  carol- 
ling : 

Or  if  such  string  remains— 'tis  broken, 
Too  rudely  swept  by  notes  of  wo  :— 
Did  not  fair  memory  yield  a  token. 
To  light  us  through  this  vale  below. 
When  the  soul  sinks  'neath  floods  of  sorrow, 
And  nought  looks  fair  that's  yet  to  come  -, 
It  bids  us  from  the  past  to  borrow, 
To  snatch  a  solace  from  the  tomb, 
And  with  life's  earlier  ray,  to  light  its  later 
gloom. 


■^8e- 


TO 


Oh  !  ask  me  not  to  thee  to  give, 
A  line  on  holy  Friendship'-j  power, 
Tho'  few  have  been  my  years  to  live, 
IVe  seen  so  much  in  my  short  hour — 


K3 


116 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


So  oft  have  trusted — wept  as  oft — 
That  I  have  near  a  skeptic  grown : 
Near  vowed  my  heart  no  longer  soft, 
Should  be— except  to  thee  alone. 

But  yet  I  can  believe  a  few, 
Might  with  my  spirit  blend  and  be 
In  every  dark  reverse  still  true— 
And  one  such  friend,  I  have  in  thee. 


THE  PARTING. 

Fare  thee  well,  for  thou  art  going. 
Far  from  those  who  love  thee  most, 
To  a  distant  land  unknowing, 
If  one  friend  shall  there  accost. 


Friends  must  part  and  kindred  sever, 
It  hath  been  and  now  must  be. 
Yet  thy  memory  leaves  us  never. 
Still  we*ll  fondly  think  of  thee. 

PartinD"  t*»Q<-s  *h'^-  ^e-'*h  of  ft>ol**»'*. 
Which  is  sleeping  in  the  breast. 


MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES. 

Ere  its  hour  around  us  stealing, 
Wakes  it  from  its  pangless  rest. 

And  it  now  hath  stolen  round  us, 
Spreading  sadness  o'er  each  face, 
Cold  nor  tearless  hath  it  found  us, 
Down  our  cheeks  their  course  they  trace 

Who  would  chide  them  at  the  parting. 
Where  we  must  exclaim — farewell ! 
E*en  now  to  my  eyes  they're  starting, 
Nor  return  they  to  their  cell. 

Think  of  those  thou  lovest  and  leavest. 
When  thou'rt  far  from  them  away, 
Nor  of  all  thy  thoughts  be  briefest, 
Those  that  thither  homeward  stray. 


nr 


But  farewell !  it  must  be  spoken — 
No  /.^  adieu — heaven  shield  thee  well. 
Memory  be  of  each  the  token, 
We  but  sigh — farewell !  farewell ! 


118 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


.  I  oft  have  gazed  upon  that  eye 
By  stealth,  endeavouring  to  divine 
The  feelings  there  that  buried  lie, 
Yet  strike  such  restless  life  to  mine. 

I  oft  have  gazed  upon  that  brow. 
Seeking  to  probe  its  text — the  soul. 
Say,  does  that  furrowed  front  avow, 
If  woes  corrode  or  passions  roll  ? 

But  when  his  glance  hath  met  my  own 
Thus  gazing — it  was  all  on  fire. 
Proud  curled  his  lip — dark  fell  his  frown  5 
I  quailed  beneath  his  kindling  ire. 

Oft  when  with  question  I  have  came, 
He  gave  but  answer  cold  or  short — 
Or  bitter — but  I  did  not  blame  : 
'Twas  but  the  surface  of  his  heart. 


But  where  such  varied  feelings  glow, 
And  still  are  told  to— shared  with  none ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Scarce  may  the  struck  beholder  know, 
To  love  or  hate — to  court  or  shun. 

Like  trace  of  red  volcano's  force, 
Once  fatal — ^now  that  only  gleams 
In  fitful  flames — but  flames  that  nurse 
Another  storm — e'en  so  it  seems. 


119 


-^®©- 


: 


TO  «         *        *        ♦ 

On  her  Birth-Day. 

Enough — enou.srh,  dear  maid  for  me, 
That  I  thy  kindly  thoughts  possess  5 
And  know  that  friendship  e'er  shall  be, 
Thy  generous  bosom's  constant  guest. 

And  often  as  this  day  returns, 
Which  welcomed  thee  to  life  and  light 
Where'er  my  humble  lot  sojourns, 
My  spirit  shall  retrace  its  flight. 

And  Friendship's  token — ever  mine, 
And  ever  kept  with  jealous  care, 
Press  t^o  tnv  liea»'^  as  tVio'  'twere  thine. 
With  all  its  feelings  blended  there. 


120 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


1 


Who  would  n^L  luve  thy  modest  mien, 

And  spirit  lone  which  most  delight, 

To  bloom  like  violet  all  unseen, 

Where  gaudier  flowers  ne'er  meet  the  sight. 

Thy  soul  is  warm,  and  mild,  and  pure, 
As  morning  dew  on  summer  flower. 
O  !  may  thy  joys  be  sweet  and  sure. 
As  ever  bloomed  in  virtue's  bower. 

A   VISIOX. 

I  had  a  vision — and  it  seemed  there  stood 
Before  my  view  a  being  of  this  world, 
But  not  all  of  this  world — for  there  beamed  out 
From  his  bright  eye  a  godlike  nobleness 
Of  soul,  which  spake  him  far  above  the  mass 
Of  those  with  whom  his  nature  was  allied — he 

stood 
In  dignity  of  feeling — proud,  but  far 
From  vain  or  selfish :  like  the  eagle  glorying 
In  his  high  independence — Nature  had 
For  him  done  every  thing — Art  nothing. 

Were  but  an  index  to  his  spirit,  which 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


12X 


Mixed  not  or  blended  with  those  of  his  fellows. 
Not  that  he  hated  them — but  he  pursued 
Not  their  pursuits — nor  hoped  their  hopes, 
Nor  held  their  converse;  his  was  but  with  nature. 
He  bent  not  at  their  altars  nor  partook 
Of  blessed  eucharist  fronj  pious  priest, 
Nor  knew,  nor  wished  to  know 
The  mystery  of  their  meaning— nor  did  he  dip 
Into  that  volume  over  which  men  pore, 
That  they  may  better  know  to  cavil  *mong  t  hem- 
selves. 
He  held  no  creed  save  that  which  he  was  taught 
When  he  looked  out  upon  the  outspread  plain— 
The  cloud-capped  mountain  and  the  rolling 

flood— 
And  heaven's  blue  canopy. 
He  turned  from  these  unto   their  first  great 

cause, 
With  heart  of  one  who  felt  th'  omnipotence 
Of  him  who  made,  and  his  own  littleness. 
But  time  rolled  on — 

Years  came  and  went,  and  still  he  was  the  same. 
At  length  there  came  a  thing  on  gilded  wings  ; 
Female  in  garb  and  female  in  appearance, 

Ar"^  K«l^i  -  ^i;i4.^..: —  ^i.: —  u^r u:~ 

n.iivi    uv^ivi    a.   ^IlLLCiiilg-    Lliill^    UClUrC    iilS   CJCO"'''^ 

I  saw  not  what  it  was  save  that  it  glittered, 


122 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


.1 


And  threw  a  ray  upon  his  countenance. 
Then  she  retired  and  beckoned  him  to  follow, 
He  paused,   and  she  returned  and  held  it  up 
again 

With  greater  lustre  sparkling— tho'  reluctant, 
He  then  obeyed  and  followed. 
But  time  rolled  on — 

Years  came  and  went,  but  still  I  saw  him  not. 
At  length  he  came  but  it  was  in  a  mask : 
He  laid  it  by— I  gazed  upon  him  with 
Close  scrutiny,  and  at  a  glance  beheld 
In  him,  all  he  had  once  contemned  and  loathed. 
A  shrivelled  form  whose  nakedness  was  covered 
With  a  few  tattered  garments— features  dark— 
And  altogether  earthly-pallid-meagre-wan. 
Nor  glowed  there  in  his  eye  one  beam  of  soul  : 
It  ail  had  fled—the  war  and  wast .  and  wreck 

Oftime— flood— fire— tempest— hurricane— 
And   earth's   deep    central    tremblings  never 
wrought 

Such  change   on  nature's   blooming   summer 
garden, 

As  had  been  wrought  on  him— But  he  resumed 
His  mask  and  went  his  way  with  slow 
And  searching  look  into  the  face 
Oi  every  passer  by  and  when  they  past 


■tt*!!'v,'J^r- 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES.  123 

He  hastened  onward— oftimes  looking  back 
Distrustful,  till  no  more  they  met  his  gaze. 


summer 


He  went — he  mixed  him  with  the  world 
And  aped  what  they  are  wont  to  ape. 
He  was  all  things  by  turns— I  saw  him  kneel 
Beside  a  hundred  altars — ^join  the  prayer 
Loud  as  the  loudest — but  he  could  smooth  his 

cheek 
To  stillest,  meekest  seeming— Like  a  very  Job. 
Then  he  mixed  him  with  the  irreligious. 
Those  who  ape  it  not — far  better  off 
Than   those   who   do — moulding  himself  and 

thoughts, 
And  their  expression  to  the  viler  sense 
Of  open  libellers  of  heaven — next  at  the  bar 
Of  justice— not  as  felon  but  as  felon's  helper 
He  stood,  and  plead 
For  crime  and  innocence  alike. 
And  unabashed  practised  all  the  minutise 
Of  pettifogging  vice— next  with  a  horde 
Of  heartless  politicians  he  was  seen,  and  only 

held 
The  strongest  best  as  being  the  strongest — his 

sole  principle : 
And  thus  he  won  his  sinuous  ways  to  office 


H 


124 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


M 


1 


t  The  first  and  last — the  Alpha  and  Omega 

Of  all  his  aims — Then  he  was  one  amidst 
A  crowd  of  merchants — pedlars— artificers 

1  Bartering  and  bargaining,  as  best  he  might. 

And  in  all  changes  he  appeared  the  thing 
He  wished  to  seem— not  less  that  which  he  was. 
But  still  hypocrisy  could  not  veil  all : 

I  That  cold  and  glassy  eye — those  obdurate  lines 

'  Depicted  in  his  face  bespake  a  soul  extinguished : 

It  was  as  marble  to  grind  down  the  poor, 
And  to  deceive  the  trusting — I   lost  him  from 

my  gaze. 
A  space  elapsed  in  which  I  saw  him  not, 

I  But  heard  a  hue  and  cry  of  murdered    sire 

Widow  despoiled  and  orphan  portionless. 

I         All  mouths  at  once  flew  open  sending  forth 
Curses  and  execrations  loud  and  long : 
They  died  away  tho'  not  forgotten. 

Time  rolled  on— 
Years  came  and  went,  but  brought    him  not 

^  agam. 

At  length  he  came,  and  ever  and  anon 

He  prest  his  spectre  arms  upon  his  desolate 

» 

^  bosom, 

I  Where  was  deposited  a  roll,  which,  with  the  ba g 

He  carried  in  his  hand— ill  gotten  all 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES.  125 

Remained  as  it  long  had  and  still  was  to  remain 
His  only  friend  and  god— he  tottered  on 
Till  he  arrived  faint,  weary  and  exhausted, 
Old  and  decrepid,  on  the  very  spot 
Where  first  I  saw  him— 'Twas  a  precipice  : 
And  through  the  vale  below  a  dark  flood  roU'd. 
Foul  and  ill-omened  birds  o'er  skimmed  its  sur- 

i^ce*"" 
And  fierce  beasts  howl'.d  upon  its  either  shore. 
Continual  night  hung  o'er  its  moaning  waves, 
From  which  out-peeping  flashed  the  fiery  eyes 
■  And  flaming  tail-and  yawned  the  famished 
mouths, 
Of  horrid  monsters-on  the  very  edge 
Of  the  o'er  hanging  precipice  he  sat  him  down; 
Drew  forth  his  roll  and  conned  it  often  o'er, 
Ana  cursea  mmselt  as  oft  that  he  had  not 
Its  value  in  hard  yellow  substance. 
Then  he  oped  his  bag  and  poured  his  eyes  out- 
(Soul  he  had  none,  else  it  had  been  his  soul) 
Upon  his  hoard  until  it  mocked  his  sight 
And  struck  him  blind-then  he  applied  his  ear. 
But  it  was  dumb-disconsolate  he  rose. 
But  had  not  strength  to  walk :  up  from  the  gulf 

below 
Issued  a  form  the  counterpart  of  his, 

L 


h . 


Ill  I 


I'lU 
1 


126  MSCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Except  that  it  had  wings— excepting  that 
There  was  a  devilish   smile  and  a  demoniac 
sneer, 

Spread  o'er  its  lip  and  caverried  in  its  eye. 
Its  name  upon  the  forehead  was  engraven 
In  deep  bold  characters— and  it  was  Avarice. 
I  knew  that  form  again,  altho'  divested 
Of  all  its  gorgeous  vestments-it  spake  to  him 
Whom  here  its  syren  voice  had  first  allured 

and  said— 
"  My  friend,  thou'st  served  me  well, 
And  I  will  now  requite  thee  in  this  hour 
Of  thy  distress,  for  lo!  behold  the  blood-hounds 
Have  tracked  you  out,  and  maddening  come 
upon  you." 

Saying  which 
It  snatched  his  treasure  from  his  hand  and  va- 
nished. 
First  plucking  him  by  his  white  scanty  locks. 
He  backward  fell-a  moment,  all  was  silent- 
The  next  a  plunging  sound  came  from  those 
depths 

And  broke  my  slumbers«-can  such  dream  be 
real  ? 


I 


M 


THE    END. 


..m¥& 


that 
demoniac 

I  eye. 

aven 

Warice. 

id 

^e  to  him 

it  allured 


y  / 


ur 

i-hounds 
ng  come 

lich 
I  and  va- 

'  locks, 
ilent — 
n  those 


\ 


78  CANADA.     The   Storming  of   Quebec. 
\     Poem    in    Three     Cantos,    and    Miscel- 
laneous  Pieces.     By  S.  W.  Taylor.      16mo 
.1(1  calf.     Phila.,  1829.    <^'(^)%<T  $l-50/| 


'<8;-6  7  0 


earn  be 


.mb^M 


JMBSSaiSi, 


36 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Now  meeting,  and  now  from  the  view  disap- 
pearing. 
No!  not  one  of  these  sought  he  to  behold, 
Tho*  to  others  they  brightened,  to  him  they 

were  cold  : 
But  the  fleet  that  rode  on  the  broad  expanse, 
Of  Lawrence,  met  his  eye's  keen  glance. 
And  there  played  a  smile,  o'er  his  lips  the  while? 
It  seemed  like  a  beauteous  beam  of  delight ; 
That  slione  from  his  soul  as  he  deemed  that  his 
toil. 
Those  flags  should  reward  ere  to-morrow's 
night. 


But  Montreal  first  to  his  arms  submits. 

The  day  declines,  and  the  dun  bat  flits 

In  the  dusk  of  the  even,  and  the  hills  of  the  west 

Have  lost  the  last  tint  that  enlivened  their  crest. 

But  the  morning  breaks,  and  the  sound  of  drums, 

And  fife  piping  shrill  and  merrily  5 
And  the  soldiers'  song  on  the  gale  that  comes, 

All  swell  the  high  strain  of  victory. 
That  squadron  is  taken,  but  yet  there  is  one 

btiU  wantmg,to  rciiaer  tnc  n  iumpu  v,wiiij^v*vv>^ 
Tor  the  master  spirit  has  escaped  all  alone, 


THE  STORMING  OF  aUEBEC. 


37 


morrow  s 


And  Montgomery  deems  that  but  trifling  is  done, 
For  if  Carleton  has  fled,  of  what  worth  is  his 

fleet  ? 
In  lightsome  skiff,  at  midnight's  profound ; 
With  muflled  oar  that  emitted  no  sound, 
He  eluded  the  guard-boats  below  that  lay; 
Why  came  you  not  here  but  yesterday  ? 

Reader  farewell  I  a  little  space  farewell ; 
E'en  now  thou  may'st  be  weary  of  the  lay: 
Here  let  us  pause--the  lengthening  shadows  tell, 
As  do  those  tinkling  bells,  the  close  of  day. 
Eat  wilt  thou  once  more  list  the  minstrel— say 
When  he  his  humble  chauntings  shall  renew  ? 
W^ould  they  had  charms  to  claim  thy  longer  stay  5 
'Tis  but  of  late  he  sought  the  muse  to  woo, 
And's  but  a  wooer  still;  once  more,  a  little  space 
adieu ! 


fi- 


D 


mm 


HM 


%■ 


■'  k. . 


THE 


STORMIXG    OF   a^EBEC 


'5 


CANTO  SECOND. 


V 


ft  ■»  ,  1 


Fai 
Del 
Wl 

Sin 
An 
Up 
An 
W: 


Nc 
Tl 
Le 
Ai 
Tl 


THE 


^U 


STORMIXG   OF   dUEBEC. 


' '  1 


CANTO  SECOND. 


Far  to  the  western  horizon, 
Delighted  turns  the  lingering  eye  5 
Where  to  his  golden  couch  the  sun 
Sinks,  scattering  many  a  beauteous  dye 
And  glowing  charm,  tho'  soon  to  fly, 
Upon  the  fleecy  mists  of  even  : 
And  robes  the  clouds  with  hues  that  vie, 
With  all  that  fancy  paints  of  heaven. 

Nor  towering  Alleghany  do 

Thy  haughty  snow  capped  summits  give, 

Less  brilliant  beauty  to  the  view, 

And  still  the  eye  regrets  to  leave 

Those  charms,  tho'  they  do  but  deceive  j 

D3 


k 

1;' 
t  * 


42 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


To  think  of  hopes  once  bright  as  they, 
Which  now  but  in  the  memory  live: 
Alike  unreal,  short  their  stay. 

Yes  short  indeed,  sad  to  behold: 
A  moment's  past,  the  scene  is  changed. 
All  now  is  gloomy,  drear,  and  cold, 
And  joy  from  nature  seems  estranged. 
And  Genuis  'gainst  thy  flight  arranged. 
The  storms  of  adverse  fortune  lower  : 
Yet  whispers  hope,  not  unavenged 
Shall  freedom  sink  beneath  their  power. 


1 


And  as  those  bright  tints  died  away, 
And  night  prevailed  o'er  twilight  grey, 
In  those  cold  mountain  regions  whence 
Springs  Kennebec's  dark  violence; 
Say,  heard  you  not  a  bugle  note 
Upon  the  evening  breezes  broup^ht? 
And  heard  you  not  its  echo  bound. 
From  cavern  mouth  and  cliff  around  ? 
Whilst  the  affrighted  Loup  Cervier 
And  Congour  dire  rose  up  in  fear ; 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


43 


Unused  to  hear  in  their  wild  glen, 
The  tread,  or  view  the  forms  of  men. 
For  ne'er  before  did  mortal  bold, 
Venture  into  that  dreary  wold 
And  ne'er  before  did  clarion  swell 
A  note  upon  its  rock  and  dell. 
And  long  'twill  be  ere  mortal  more, 
Shall  track  that  pathless  desert  o'er. 
For  dread  I  ween  must  be  the  way, 
Where  Indian  barb  pursues  no  prey. 
And  barren  is  the  spot,  and  lell, 
That  ne'er  replied  to  savage  yell. 
Sav  heard  you  not  that  bugle  sound. 
And  echo  from  the  rocks  around  ? 


O  yes  I  and  loud,  and  wild  it  blew  5 

O'er  hill,  o'er  rock,  o'er  stream  it  flew. 

And  all  along  Dead  river's  shore, 

Full  many  a  crag  and  cavern  hoar. 

Reverberated  o'er  and  o'er. 

Until  at  length  its  echoes  died. 

Upon  Magalloway's  dark  tide. 

We  turned  whence  that  strange  blast  had  camn 

But  save  a  watchtire's  feeble  flame, 


fe: 


i  *■ 


44 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


i:  ^1 


i 


And  smoke  that  curling  rose: 
And  save  the  forest  towering  high, 
And  mountain's  brow,  unto  the  eye, 

The  gloom  did  nought  disclose  : 
But  ere  two  suns  had  rose  and  set. 
Full  many  a  glittering  bayonet, 
And  polished  tube,  and  broad  claymore, 

And  good  sword  brightly  gleamed  ', 
And  warrior  plumes  their  helmets  o'er, 

And  spangled  banners  streamed. 
And  well  they  looked  in  martial  pride. 
On  the  Green  Mountains'  rugged  side. 
Short  time  those  heights  their  steps  delay, 
Still  kept  they  on  their  onward  way. 
And  plume  and  banner,  man  and  steed, 
And  blades  that  burned  for  battle  deed, 
Behind  the  mountain's  brow  were  screened, 

Nor  saw  we  them  again  : 
And  hardy,  bold  and  brave  we  weened, 

Were  those  adventurous  men. 


5' 

liBnlHR 

And  deemed  ye  so?  right  true  ye  deemed: 
Their  deeds  have  proved  them  what  they  seemed. 
For  they  were  Arnold  and  his  band, 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Ye  saw  upon  that  dismal  land. 
And  whose  the  woes  that  may  compare 
With  theirs,  ere  to  the  Chaudiere 
They  came,  all  by  a  horrid  way, 
That  might  the  stoniest  heart  dismay. 

Arnold  I  impetuous  as  the  course 

Of  Saguenay  deep,  fierce  and  hoarse; 

Unyielding  as  the  flinty  bed. 

O'er  which  its  foaming  billows  roll: 

Thy  spirit  was  to  danger  bred, 

And  terror's  features  r^mrmed  thy  soul. 

Thine  was  the  head  and  thine  the  hand 

To  plot  the  scheme  and  wield  the  brand ; 

The  mind  to  brave,  the  frame  to  bear 
Fatigue's  extreme,  without  impair  : 
The  eagle  eye  that  nought  could  pall, 
The  warrior  spirit — all  in  all . 
And  long  shall  history's  pages  tell. 
And  oft  shall  minstrel  sing  how  well 
That  patriot  baud  by  thee  was  led 
From  Wester  Fort,  to  Chaudiere's  head. 
Nor  there  the  minstrel  shall  suspend 


45 


lis  iiui  p,  1 


.rjr  there  thy  praises  end  5 


f  ■■ 


But  catching  all  thy  spirit's  fire, 


Ir 


[  - 


46    THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

The  strain  shall  rise  still  high  and  higher  : 

Recite  thy  deeds  in  battle  done, 

The  wounds  you  bare,  the  crowns  you  won ; 

Those  laurel  crowns  won  by  thy  blade, 

So  green  they  seem'd  they  ne'er  could  fade  ; 

And  did  they  only  seem  ?  alas ! 

How  oft  that  word  our  lips  must  pass, 

Despite  of  hope  and  promise  given  : 

Then  is  there  nothing  true  but  heaven  ? 

So  must  he  think  who  thinks  of  thee. 

What  1  dauntless  Arnold  1  could  it  be, 

From  patriot  thou  should'st  traitor  turn? 

Each  honest  breast  with  scorn  shall  burn. 

And  many  a  page  shall  brand  thy  name 

With  infamy  and  lasting  shame,  j 

To  ignominious  doom  consign'd. 

Apostate  go !  mix  with  thy  kind  5 

If  such  there  be  who  will  not  shun, 

Crime  deeper  shaded  than  their  own. 

Go  forth  1  a  veteran  in  vice, 

And  revel  in  thy  honour's  price ; 

The  curse  of  Cain  is  on  thy  brow. 

Yet  none  shall  strike  the  vengeful  blow  5 

But  scorn  thy  sole  companion  be, 

And  Europe  point  as  well  as  we  ! 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Ledyard,  to  whom  thy  treason  gave, 

An  early  and  a  bloody  grave— 

His  ghost  shall  haunt  thee  to  thy  own. 

Nor  'gainst  thee  cries  his  blood  alone, 

But  Andre's  too  is  on  thy  head, 

By  retributive  justice  shed. 

Live  on,  cold  traitor  I  if  thou  wilt 

Survive  this  stain  of  deepest  guilt. 

Live  on  I  if  thy  once  patriot  heart, 

Could  stoop  to  act  this  basest  part ; 

Now  by  thy  blushing  country  curst. 

Still  will  not  bend,  and  cannot  burst : 

Live  on — in  time  remorse  may  flee. 

Crime  such  as  thine !  wretch  such  as  thee  1 


47 


Yet,  ere  thy  fall  thou  wert  as  bright, 
As  any  star  that  lit  the  night. 

O'er  freedom's  land  that  came  ; 
Saving  that  great  immortal  One — 
But  He  was  freedom's  dazzling  sun. 

Which  ever  beamed  the  same  : 
Whose  ardour  warmed  full  many  a  breast, 
And  thine,  not  least  among  the  rest, 
!      Was  kindled  into  flame  1 
What  pity  that  such  generous  fire, 


^1     I  I 


i\ 


48      THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

In  such  a  breast  should  thus  expire, 
And  sully  such  a  name  I 

Arnold  had  came  with  toil  untold, 
Where  Us  dark  waves  Dead  river  rolled, 
With  soul  unshaken  as  the  rock, 
That  meets  and  stems  the  billowy  shock  5 
And  Morgan  shared  the  peril  too, 
Than  whose  was  never  heart  more  true  5 
And  Meigs  beside,  with  Arnold  came^ 
And  Ogden— all  of  goodly  fame. 
But  what  do  they  in  this  dread  spot, 
Where  Indians'  fearless  tread  comes  not? 
Save  here  he  come  his  foe  to  track, 
And  then— what  shall  his  steps  turn  back? 
"The  foe  to  track,"— in  sooth  I  heard 
Good  answer  in  that  echoing  word : 
Ask  not  again  what  do  they  here. 
Who  seeks  his  foe  stops  not  to  fear. 

An  Indian  issued  from  the  wood, 
And  strode  where  Arnold  pondering  stood. 
He  raised  his  brow  and  doffed  his  plume  : 
'Tis  he !  I  know  that  brow  of  gloom  I 
The  same  from  Sorer s  wave  that  sprang, 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC.  49 

Like  arrow  from  the  bow-string's  twang. 
Arnold  look'd  up  in  mute  surprise- 
Whence  r  who  art  thou  ?  at  length  he  cries  5 
Your  name,  and  errand  here,  declare, 
Nor  aught  untrue  to  utter  dare. 

«I  truth  will  tell  as  heaven  is  there, 

To  witness  what  I  here  avow. 
Outauson  is  the  name  I  bear. 

The  warrior  of  the  furrow'd  brow. 
My  tribe,  alas  I  it  is  not  now, 

But  once  it  was  a  potent  one  ; 
Its  warriors  are  in  death  laid  low, 

And  of  their  race  I'm  left  alone. 

I  lately  journeyed  to  the  spot, 

Which  was  my  father's  wilderness. 
That  pang  shall  never  be  forgot— 

A  pang  I  never  can  express. 
Nor  days,  nor  months  have  made  it  less  : 

It  almost  crazed  my  wandering  brain— 
I  stood  alone  of  all  the  race, 

That  once  possessed  that  wide  domain. 

One  tear  and  only  one  I  shed  : 
I  vowed  that  it  should  be  the  last— 


14 


%'• 


T'     I: 


1 

J 

r 


■  'Pli 


ill 


50 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


It  fell  where  sleep  the  mighty  dead — 
Oh  !  it  was  sweet  but  soon  it  past. 

From  thence  their  fount  was  frozen  fast ; 
The  Pequod  left  his  sire's  fair  land 

Like  serried  leaf  on  autumn's  blast, 
Or  wreck  upon  the  ocean  strand. 


mBmf 


i 


Curse  on  the  Narragansett's  hate, 

That  would  not  for  a  moment  change  5 
Yet  shall  they  share  the  Pequod's  fate, 

And  that  shall  slake  our  just  revenge. 
Areskoui— may  they  never  range 

Thy  western  fields  and  forests  o'er, 
Who  leagued  with  impious  white  men  strange, 

To  drive  us  from  our  native  shore.  * . 

White  man  !  I  had  a  brother  dear. 

But  lowly  lies  his  eagle  crest  5 
Wo  met  the  foe  who  raised  the  spear. 

Beneath  my  arm  the  sod  he  press 'd  5 
Yet  still  the  wrong  is  unredress'd: 

But  I  will  seek  my  vengeance  now, 
And  fiercely  fall,  it  fits  me  best — 

The  warrior  of  the  furrow 'd  brow. 


i"  it 

jt*-    ii 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Chieftain  !  for  such  thou  seem'st  to  be  ; 

Warrior !  for  such  I  know  thou  art — 
Although  this  tale  is  nought  to  thee, 

Excuse  the  words  unbicl  that  start 
From  out  a  chieftain  warrior's  heart ; 

If  thou  art  of  this  band  the  chief, 
I  have  to  thee  aught  to  impart — 

Then  will  I  thus  relate  it  brief. 


51 


It  was  a  Briton's  hand  that  slew 

My  brother,  such  that  slew  my  sire — 
They  thirsted  for  my  life  blood  too, 

'Gainst  them  alone  shall  turn  my  ire, 
In  vengeance  dreadful,  deep,  and  dire. 

As  late  I  was  by  them  pursued, 
I  came  where  Tie's  dun  towers  aspire, 

And  there  I  found  a  shelter  good. 

It  was  not  death  I  fear'd  or  fled, 
Or  captive's  lingering  agonies. 

Outauson  never  learned  to  dread 

Or  sword  or  fire — the  last  would  please 

Him  best — he  can  face  each  of  these. 
I  knew  to  stand  were  but  to  die, 


1  ff 


I' 


,-:  ( 

■■;!    i. 
-y 


sS,:. 


V.     \ 


52  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

And  unreveng^d— then  ne'er  would  cease 
My  kindred's  blood  'gainst  me  to  cry. 

Montgomery  deemed  me  worthy  trust, 

He  bade  me  bring  his  speech  to  thee : 
I  came— my  path  the  foeman  crossed, 

My  hatchet  drank  the  blood  of  three  I 
But  it  was  vain— I  could  not  flee  ; 

The  speech  to  thousand  shreds  I  tore, 
And  yielded  to  the  fates'  decree, 

To  wait  a  more  propitious  hour. 

It  came  I  they  slept,  they  looked  like  death  1 
In  one  I  fix'd  a  fatal  dart ; 

One  rolled  my  tomahawk  beneath  ; — 
Of  two  this  red  knife  found  the  heart. 

Well  did  this  aged  arm  its  part- 
It  left  not  one  to  tell  the  tale. 

Or  bid  the  tear  of  sorrow  start. 

Or  raise  the  widow's  mournful  wail. 

And  here  I  am — prepared  to  go 
On  any  service  thou'lt  assign ; 

Outauson  of  the  iurrow'd  brow. 

Though  few  his  days  must  be — is  thine. 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC.  53 

Others  did  round  my  pathway  twine 
Like  serpents— e'en  so  shall  not  I  ? 

Yea,  will  I !  through  each  hour  that's  mine 
Like  adder  live— and  thus  will  die." 


■S'- 


Arnold  that  Pequod  chief  has  sent 

With  written  scroll  of  deep  portent 

To  Schuyler's  camp ;  and  he  the  while, 

Proceeds  upon  his  way  of  toil. 

O'er  hill  and  valley,  rock  and  dell, 

Through  wilds  where  scarce  the  wolf  will  dwell; 

Through  forests  where  the  sun  comes  not. 

Nor  moon,  nor  star,  is  seen  thereout  5 
But  only  owlets'  orbs  that  glare, 
To  light  them  on  the  way  they  dare. 
And  shriek  till  morn  the  morn  renew. 
In  concert  with  the  wild  curlew  5 
And  night-hawks  hovering  round  their  path. 
Like  shadows  flit,  and  scream  in  wrath ; 
And  foxes  peep  from  out  their  lair. 
While  howls  the  startled  grizzly  bear ; 
And  hoarsely  falls  upon  the  ear, 
The  roar  of  torrent  dashing  near  5 
Sear  leaves  are  rustling  'neath  the  leet 

Of  Moose  deer  as  iEolus  fleet. 

E  2 


I 


i\ 


1 


r  -o  ■ 


.111 


54 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


And  darker,  wilder,  as  they  go, 
The  dism^^l  scene  appears  to  grow  5 
The  wind  more  bleak  and  piercing  blows, 
Scarce  and  more  scarce  provision  grows. 
When  shall  such  hardships  have  an  end  ? 
Courage — see  you  yon  streamlet  wend  ? 
Now  banish  from  your  hearts  despair. 
It  is  the  source  of  Chaudiere. 
♦        *»**         *        *        * 
What  form  is  yon  behind  the  fern, 

That  steals  so  cautiously  along  ? 
Those  eyes  so  oft  that  backward  turn. 

Betray  that  aught  with  him  is  wrong. 
What  gaze  is  it  he  seeks  to  shun  ? 
Fears  he  the  bear  so  fierce  and  dun  ? 
Methinks  I've  seen  that  plume  before, 
'Twas  such  that  dark  Outauson  bore: 
The  tiger  skin  around  him  thrown. 
Resembles  much  that  chieftain's  own  5 
That  make  and  form,  attire  and  mien 
Combined — I've  surely  somewhere  seen. 
Much  like  the  Pequod's  they  appear, 
Yet  why  should  he  be  wending  here  ? 
This  is  no  course  his  steps  to  lead 
To  Schuyler's  camp  with  wonted  speed. 


i.m 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

And  well  he  knows  this  is  a  way, 
Where  foe  to  Britain  may  not  stray 
Alone  unchallenged — or  may  flee 
Untaken — how  then  can  this  be  he  ? 


55 


Right  well  I  ween  all  Quebec  rose 
That  morn  in  haste  from  their  repose, 

When  Arnold's  band  came  near. 
Still  looked  and  looked  in  mute  surprise, 
Believing  scarce  their  wond'ring  eyes, 

"  How  came  this  army  here  ? 
Say,  dropt  they  from  the  clouds  to  earth. 
Or  sprang  they  from  her  bosom  forth, 

Like  Greek,  from  seed  of  fear? 
O  heaven  !  unless  like  them  they  turn 
Their  arms  against  themselves,  we  learn 

To  part  with  all  that's  dear. 


»» 


A  panic  seized  on  every  heart. 
He  came  so  sudden  and  untold  :— 

Like  lightnings  from  the  poles  that  dart, 
Or  thunder  from  the  clouds  uprolled. 

So  seemed  the  glitter  of  their  arms. 

So  seemed  their  clarion's  shrill  alarms ; 

But  yet  within  those  walls  were  two. 


SI 


I 


If, 


a 


f 

u 
t| 


I!  i 
r 


I'MS 


56 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Of  whom,  one  wore  not  British  garb, 
Who  of  his  secret  coming  knew  : 

No  thanks  the-efor  to  fleetest  barb. 
But  Indians'  mo-e  untiring  speed, 
That  left  but  litt\e  want  of  steed. 


On  Levi's  summit  Arnold  stood, 

With  nought  Quebec  and  him  between, 
Save  loud  St.  Lawrence  monarch  flood. 

Which  roaring  rolled  its  surges  greeii.^ 
He  gazed  upon  :hat  steep  dark  rock. 

Whose  summit  darker  towers  surmount, 
As  if  they  would  his  threatenings  mock, 

And  echoing  give  him  back  his  taunt. 
He  stood — Wolf  there  had  stood  before. 

He  gazed — Wolf  thus  had  gazed  too, 
Upon  that  high  opposing  shore. 

Where  scantily  the  wild  spruce  grew ; 
And  heath  and  juniper  were  seen. 

Yet  sprang  they  only  thin  and  spare. 
The  fissures  of  the  rocks  between  ; 
Yet  but  for  these  it  had  not  been. 

Perchance  that  he  had  then  been  there. 
Without  the  aid  their  tendrils  lent, 
Wolf  had  not  gained  that  steep  ascent ; 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


57 


if' 


Without  the  aid  their  tendrils  gave, 
Perchance  he  might  have  found  a  grave 
Inglorious,  while  his  rival's  name — 
Montcalm  I  had  gained  a  deathless  fame  ; 
And  France  preserved  her  ancient  sway, 
O'er  all  the  extent  of  Canada. 

And  it  is  so — ^man's  fate  depends 

Not  less  upon  the  twig  that  bends  ' 

Within  his  grasp,  than  on  the  brand 

Whose  weight  fatigues  and  frets  his  hand. 

Nt   less  on  moments  than  on  days, 

Or  months,  or  years — the  least  outweighs, 

The  greatest — it  is  vain  to  call 

One  thing  most  powerful  of  all. 

Since  all  must  yield  to  time  and  chance. 

To  season,  place,  and  circumstance. 

A  goose  saved  Rome— things  not  more  great 

Have  ascertained  a  nation's  fate. 

A  twig— it  may  be — lost  for  ever. 

To  France  a  sceptre  which  to  sever, 

Else  had  not  been  in  English  power. 

A  shrub — the  sixtieth  of  an  hour. 


A  SOUud- 


14 


Have  thousands  doomed  to  wo  and  death. 


;« 


58 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


That  narrow  winding  path  he  viewed, 
It  was  a  devious  one,  and  rude. 
Cape  Diamond  lay  upon  his  right, 
And  wide  extended  on  its  height 
Were  seen  the  plains  of  Abraham  : 
Thy  last  and  fatal  field  Montcalm ! 
Thy  latest  Wolf  I  yet  still  thy  best. 
Where  thousand  warriors  with  thee  rest. 

He  viewed  the  steep  before  that  lay — 

"  I  too  will  climb  that  rugged  way. 

Of  Arnold  it  shall  ne'er  be  said. 

What  Wolf  o'ercame  hath  him  dismayed. 

It  were  a  stain  upon  my  name. 

An  e'er  enduring  blot  of  shame  5 

For  Arnold's  soul  has  stood  the  test 

Of  ordeals  which  might  shake  the  best. 

Death  and  myself  have  side  by  side. 

Dealt  blow  for  blow,  given  stride  for  stride. 

Nor  peril's  darkest,  dreadest  hour, 

E'er  brought  a  panic  to  my  heart  5 
Now  through  whatever  storm  may  lower, 

It  fearless  still  shall  bear  its  part." 

Reader  farewell — a  little  space  farewell ! 
E'en  now  thou  may'st  be  wearier  of  the  lay 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


59 


But  still  be  patient  and  the  muse  shall  tell, 
In  loftier  verse  he  can  not,  will  not  say, 
But  yet  in  verse  as  lofty  as  he  mayj 
The  incidents  so  well  already  known, 
Of  that  most  fatal,  yet  still  glorious  day  :— 
Again  farewell — for  lo  !  now  sets  the  sun, 
And  other  tasks  remain  ere  night  falls  to  be 
done. 


m 


THE 


STORMING   OF   aUEBEC. 


CANTO  THIRD. 


m 


I  > , 


|.., 


1^ 


4' 


11 ; 


r 


THE 


STORMING   OF    aUEBEC. 


CANTO  THIUD. 


Go,  ye  whom  steep  and  rugged  pathways  daunt, 
Go,  seek  the  lawn,  and  gently  sloping  mead; 
The  Jessamine  bower— the  bee's  and  hum-bird's 

haunt, 
And  chase  the  butterfly  where'er  it  lead; 
And  listen  to  the  music  of  the  reed— 
The  mock-birds'  notes,  and  thrushes'  sweeter 

voice. 
Deeming  that  such  soft  scenes  are  sweet  indeed. 
And  in  them  live  and  thus  to  live  rejoice— 
And  sing  from  morn  to  even— but  such  are  not 

my  choice. 

Give  me  to  climb  the  Katskill's  devious  height. 
Where  the  white  crested  Eagle  builds  his  nest: 


64 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Where  pause  the  clouds  upon  their  humid  flight 

As  tho*  to  seek  a  momentary  rest. 

Thence  to  survey  surrounding  objects  drest 

In  hues  sublimest  nature  can  bestow, 

To  turn  my  wrapt  gaze  north,  south,  east,  and 

west — 
O'er  mountains  bald  and  fertile  vales  below : 
And  view  the  Mohawk's  broad,  and  Hudson's 

broader  flow. 


H  y 


Or  to  Monte  Video's  summit  let  me  wind, 
Where  dwells  seclusion — there  'twere  sweet  to 

stray 
Alone  and  leave  life's  anxious  cares  behind  ; 
Where  thought  might  have  uninterrupted  play 
And  full  expression — whence  the  spirit's  way 
Might  be  like  Eagles  soaring  o'er  each  cloud. 
With  steadfast  eye  upon  the  orb  of  day  : 
Piercing  the  dull  mists  that  are  wont  to  shroud 
Its  feelings  and  its  glow,  amid  the  noisy  crowd. 


The  glassy  Lake  might  catch  the  wandering 

gaze, 
And  lure  the  soul  ft^om.  its  supernal  flight. 
Whilst  the  rich  tincture  of  converging  rays. 


:l  flight 

rest 

,st,  and 

;low : 
udson's 


ind, 
weet  to 

liind  ; 
;ed  play 
's  way 
1  cloud. 

• 

shroud 
crowd. 

ndering 

rht. 
rays. 


THE  STOUMING  OF  QUEDEC.  6: 

Should  fill  it  with  before  unfelt  delight. 
But  turning  from  those  scenes  so  soft  and  bright, 
Objects  more  wild  but  not  less  pleasing  rise  : 
Forests  that  frown  and  rocks  as  dark  as  night, 
Grow  darker  as  they  emulate  the  skies; 
Whilst  round  their  lofty  peaks  the  raven  flits 
and  cries. 

And  furious  Connecticut  that  roars. 
Leaping  o'er  hoary  ledges,  crags  that  stem 
And  bear  its  billows  back  upon  their  course, 
Breaks  on  the  ear,  whilst  all  unlike  to  them 
Blue  Farmington's  clear  waves  so  gently  tame 
With   graceful  sweep   wind    thro'    the  valley 

green  ; 
Di  spersing  from  the  mind  each  trace  of  phlegm 
As  through  embowering  shrubs  and  trees  'tis 

seen 
To  heave  like  that  calm  breast  where  crime 

hath  never  been. 

Or  let  me  seek  that  hill  of  hills,  that  spot. 
Ever  to  be  remembered  till  we  lose 
The  name  and  souls  of  Freemen— then  forgot 

F2 


it',.-  w'l 


66 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Be  Bunker's  Hill,  if  that  its  name  renews 
Not  in  our  breasts  the  fire  it  did  diffuse 
Into  those  of  our  fathers — let  the  name 
Of  Warren  be  oblivion — of  what  use 
Could  his  to  freedom  be — if  in  our  shame 
The  sound  of  Bunker's  Hill,  shall  not  alight 
her  flame. 

Hail!  Liberty!  Immortal  Goddess!  hail- 
Bright  as  yon  rolling  sun  that  lights  the  world; 
While  his  endures  thy  light  shall  never  fail: 
Nor  shall  thy  banners  on  the  earth  be  furl'd, 
Until  those  planets  from  their  orbs  are  hurl'd — 
Until  those  heavens  are  like  a  scroll  uproll'd — 
Until  those  mountains   from   their   base    are 

whirl'd  5 
Yes !  here  thou  shalt  thy  wide  dominion  hold, 
'Till  the  loud  trump  declares,  earth  must  not 

be  more  old. 


Thy  spark  dies  not,  although  it  may  be  hid, 
As  yon  broad  disk,  by  clouds  may  be  obscured  : 
But  given  "  by  bleeding  sires  to  sons"  that 
bleed, 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


67 


le 
alight 


worlds 

fail: 

rlM, 

n-l'd— 

oll'd— 

se    are 

hold, 
ust  not 


Is  ever  of  some  pp^^ot  breast  assured. 
Whilst  all  those  siif,s  attempted  or  endured, 
Gleams  as  a  beacon  to  their  progeny. 
To  light  them  on  their  path— or  as  the  Louard 
To  warn  of  coming  storm— and  may  they  be 
Examples  e'er  revered,  America  by  thee. 

But  this  is  not  my  theme  and  I  must  go. 
Where  Tourment  Cape  towers  high  as  tho'  it 

were 
To  gaze  on  great  St.  Lawrence'  mighty  flow, 
And  trace  its  wide  extending  flood  to  where 
'Twixt  shores  that  farther  from  each  other  wear 
Their  course,  it  rolls  sublimely  to  the  ocean ; 
Whilst  over  'gainst  its  summit  others  rear 
Their  haughty  heads,    from  whence  in  wild 

commotion 
Leaps  Montmorency's  weight,  and  hills  quake 

'neath  its  motion. 


hid, 
icured : 
;"  that 


And  spray  and  mist  are  ever  from  the  chasm 
Where  it  has  leaped  and  boils,  high  into  air 
Rising  to  meet  the  clouds  like  some  phantasm, 
While  fancy's  reign  prevails  that  seems  so  fair; 


^1 
t4 


68  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

And  form  themselves  to  beauteous  rainbows 

there. 
Still  further  clown  glide  tributary  streams  5 
And  Isle  of  Orleans  yields  no  little  share, 
Of  grandeur  to  the  view,  so  lone  it  seems, 
And  yet  so  stately  still  enrobed  in  glory's  beams. 

But  there  is  Quebec  proudly  on  her  rock. 
Rising  to  meet  and  to  surprise  the  eye  I 
Bidding  defiance  to  each  bellowing  shock, 
Seeming  to  spurn  the  earth  and  seek  the  sky. 
And  further  up  Cape  Rouge  is  towering  high, 
Point  Levi's  heights  are  on  the  opposing  sh  ore 
Where  cling  the  offspring  of  sterility  : 
There  Savery  rolls,  and  from  above  the  roar 
Of  Chaudiere  is  heard,  its  rough  rocks  dashing 
o'er. 


Land  of  dark  floods  I  stupendous  cataracts  I 
Huge  naked  precipices  I  forests  dread  1 
Pathless  save  where  the  savage  Indian  tracks 
A  way  which  wild  beasts  haunt— the  spirit  bred 
Amid  thy  scenes— its  passions  on  them  fed. 
Might  well  be  stern,  impetuous  and  strong. 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


69 


Inbows 

ns; 

re, 

ns, 

J  beams. 

ck, 

'  • 

)ck, 
be  sky. 
ng  high, 
ig  shore 

le  roar 
>  clashing 


'acts  I 

• 

I  tracks 
pirit  bred 
m  fed, 
trong. 


Fearless  and  free— but  whither  have  I  strayed? 
I  had  not  meant  such  portion  of  my  song, 
Should  thus  be  poured  but  now,  my  theme  shall 
haste  along. 

It  nought  avai'S  to  tell  each  toil, 

Each  varied  daring  and  each  foil. 

Few  pause  to  ask  of  minor  deeds, 

When  one  great  scheme  fails  or  succeeds. 

Suffice  to  say  the  weary  bands 

At  Point  au  Tremble  shook  willing  hands, 

O'erjoyed  in  this  cold  cheerless  place, 

To  meet  whom  name  of  friend  might  grace  : 

Whence  without  longer  stay  they  came 

To  the  famed  plains  of  Abraham  : 

And  Quebec's  walls  look  grimly  there. 

Contemning  all  the  Leaguerers  dare. 

And  every  pointing  spire  and  vane, 

The  expiring  sunbeams  ruddy  stain. 

But  they  shall  see  a  bloodier  sight— 

A  darker  than  the  approaching  night. 

A  flag  is  sent,  a  shower  of  balls, 
A  t>oi.nH  ntid  o'er  its  bearer  falls; 
Whilst  the  accompanying  quick  report, 


70  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Bears  Carleton's  answer  loud  and  short. 
The  letter  secretly  conveyed— 

The  high  and  stern  demand— the  threat— 
On  him  have  no  impression  made. 

Alike  they're  unregarded  yet. 
Disdainful  answer  is  but  given, 

That  chafes  Montgomery's  fiery  mood  : 
"Thou  wilt  not  yield— then  witness  heaven, 

I  wash  my  hands  of  British  blood. 
Bethink  thee,  haughty  Carleton  well, 

If  thou  canst  stand  the  battle  shock, 
If  thou'rt  secure  from  bomb  and  shell. 

Bethink  thee  ere  thou  darest  to  mock 
Our  fury,  if  those  rock-thron'd  towers 

Hold  not  thy  foes  and  freedom's  friends. 
Who  wait  till  but  one  peal  of  ours, 

Proclaims  our  ruth  for  ever  ends. 
To  rise  and  make  them  all  their  own, 

And  vindicate  their  trampled  rights  : 
It  fits  thee  not  that  scornful  tone, 

But  it  may  change  ere  many  nights. 
And  sad  for  thee  and  thine  will  be, 

The  night  or  day,  whene'er  the  hour 
Shall  come,  that  gives  us  victory. 

Avert  these  woes  while  in  thy  power." 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

«  Fulfil  thy  threat  5"— this  answer  brief, 

Alone  vouchsafed  the  British  chief. 

it  Fulfil  thy  threat,"— this  firm  reply, 

Hath  woke  the  dread  artillery. 

And  often  has  its  pealings  roared  5 

In  showers  the  sweeping  iron  pour'd. 

Yet  cannon's  peal  and  howitz'  blaze, 

Leave  of  their  fury  little  trace. 

Time  flies  and  morn  succeeds  to  morn, 

With  each  more  wintry  blasts  are  borne. 

Meantime  have  crept  diseases  stern 

Amid  the  camp,  and  fevers  burn. 

And  agues  shake  the  feeble  frame— 

And  fiery  eyes  have  lost  their  flame— 

And  arms  their  strength,  and  veterans  grow 

Pale  beneath  the  drifting  snow, 

Like  a  winding  sheet  outspread, 

To  receive  the  drooping  head. 

And  enfold  the  breathless  form, 

When  the  spirit  thence  has  fled  ; 
Leaving  it  to  feast  the  worm, 

Slimy  reveller  o'er  the  dead  I 

Uo«r  Ke«*«  thv  heart,  Montgomery,  now  ? 
SUU  firm  and  dauntless  is  thy  brow  ? 


n 


n 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Say,  in  that  eye  so  lately  bright, 

With  hope's  most  ardent,  cloudless  glare. 
Are  those  the  shades  of  coming  night, 
The  evening  mists  of  dark  despair  ? 
And  is  that  sigh  the  sigh  of  one, 

Who  leaves  his  purpose  unfulfilled 
While  yet  aught  further  may  be  done  ? 

Whom  peril's  hour  can  teach  to  yield  ? 
]^ot  so — though  toils  and  dangers  press 
Around  thee— still  thou  art  prepar'd 
To  meet  and  brave  them,  nor  confess, 

That  all  is  lost  ere  all  be  dar'd. 
No  I  He  whose  parting  word  with  her, 
By  him  most  cherish'd,  lov'd  of  all, 
Whose  voice  than  all  was  mightier, 

Saving  his  foster  country's  call, 
Was  "  loved  one,  thou  shalt  never  blush 

For  thy  Montgomery" — words  which  oft 
Upon  his  memory  would  rush. 

And  with  them  recollections  soft — 
Yet  still  they  manned  him  in  that  hour, 
When  most  was  needed  strengthening  power 
No  I  he  cried  it  must  not  be 

Thou  shouid'st  ever  bhir/n  for  him. 
Thy  unchang*d  Montgomery, 


Rath< 

Rather 

Free: 

Ere  i 

Or  avo 

'Twas  I 

Behind 

The  si] 

O'er  si 

SatCa 

Where 

His  ch 

Whos 

He  sat 

And  w 

Had  d 

Thou£ 

Withi 

Its  pa; 

And  s 

But  w 

Hark 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Rather  let  his  eye  grow  dim. 

Rather  let  the  piercing  blast, 
Freeze  the  current  of  his  heart, 
Ere  it  should  forget  its  part, 

Or  avoid  the  adventurous  cast. 


73 


m 


'Twas  dusk  upon  the  plain,  the  sun 
Behind  the  western  hills  went  down. 
The  snow  was  drifting  fast  and  deep, 
O'er  sloping  vale  and  rocky  steep. 
Sat  Carleton  in  his  secret  hall, 
Where,  in  obedience  to  his  call 
His  chieftains  came,  and  with  them  one 
Who  seem'd  the  gloomy  forests'  son  5 
He  sat  him  down  in  silent  mood, 
And  who  had  then  his  features  view'd, 
Had  deem'd  that  far  from  undisturb'd, 
Thought  was  deep  working  and  perturb'd 
Within  that  breast,  whose  index  dark, 
Its  passions  was  unwont  to  mark, 
And  sullen  long  remained  aside. 
But  wildly  rose  at  length  and  cried  :— 
Hark !  hear  ye  not  the  loon's  shrill  note  that 
comes  upon  the  blast, 


m 


74  THE  STOUMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

And  does  it  but  portend  the  storm  that's  raging 

now  shall  last? 
Or  rather,  does  it  not  forewarn  of  other  storm 

that's  nigh, 
But  not  to  burst  from  yonder  clouds  that  veil 

the  ethereal  sky. 
E'en  now  the  shadow  of  my  sire  is  reeking  in 

nay  sight, 
And  my  brother's  bloody  corpse  I  see  as  on  that 

fatal  night ; 
And  they  bid  me  sing  my  battle  song,  and  gird 

me  for  the  fray, 
Where  I  must  mix  ere  sets  again  the  rolling  orb 

of  day. 
And  let  my  soul  but  once  more  soar  in  battle's 

fiercest  hour, 
This  is  the  only  wish  that  yet  to  hold  it  here 

hath  power. 
And  when  my  arm  hath  done  its  work  of  death 

among  the  foe. 
Red  to  his  father's  shadows  let  the  Pequod's 

spirit  go. 


And  then  he  sang  his  feats  in  wai— 
The  deaths  he  dealt,  the  scars  he  bore  5 


THE  STORMING  OF  aUEBEC.  7* 

Told  all  the  reeking  scalps  he  tore 
From  foe  beneath  his  arm  o'erthrown, 
Recounting  all  his  youth  had  done 
With  exultation  high  and  wild, 
Like  nature's  own  untutor'd  child. 

'Twas  night  upon  the  plain,  the  moon 

Upon  her  starry  way  rode  on. 

But  all  unseeing  and  unseen. 

Through  the  dark  clouds  that  hung  between, 

As  to  preclude  her  gentler  view. 

From  deeds  of  darker,  deeper  hue. 

Some  stir  was  in  the  invester's  camp, 

A  still,  low  sound  of  measur'd  tramp. 

An  echo  of  commanding  word— 

A  sullen  plunge  at  times  was  heard, 

Succeeded  by  a  pause  so  deep,  _ 

•T  would  seem  they  all  were  wrapp  d  m  sleep. 

But  such,  nor  heavily  nor  light, 

Had  prest  upon  one  lid  that  night. 

Yet  seem'd  the  silence  scarcely  broke, 

As  half  suppress'd  a  voice  thus  spoke  :- 

-Tis  come!  the  Wr  of  final  strife! 
The  rolling  drum  and  thrilling  fife, 


J 


f'frf 


76 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Shall  soon  awake  to  desperate  life, 
The  slumbering  hosts  of  Brittany. 

On  I  those  with  me  who  freely  go — 
I  £^sk  not  dastard's  succour — No  I 
We  strike  not  with  a  dastard  foe, 
But  one  will  combat  sturdily. 

Beneath  yon  valo  ir-baffling  stones, 
Our  banners  fold  our  tombless  bones  5 
Or  over  freedom's  conquering  sons. 
Shall  on  them  wave  triumphantly. 


^'1 

lii'iirii'S 
III K  in 


4^ 


Your  country  looks  upon  the  fight, 
Great  Warren's  spirit  rolls  back  the  night  5 
With  all  who  fell  on  Bunker's  height, 
To  gaze  upon  your  gallantry. 

She  asks  revenge  for  wrongs  and  shame  5 
They  bid  ye  still  uphold  their  fame, 

And  win  like  them  a  deathless  name. 

The  champions  of  liberty  ! 

More  need  I  say  ?  I  need  not  more, 
To  men  whom  injuries  long  and  sore, 


THE  STORMING  OF  Q     ^^BEC  Tf 

Provok'd  and  goaded  till  they  swore 
u  War  to  the  knife"  with  tyranny. 

Then  let  us  to  the  scene,  of  strife, 
Reserve  the  roll  of  drum  and  fife, 
Then  suddrn  rouse  to  desperate  life, 
The  slumbering  hor.ts  of  Brittany  I 
Slow  spread  the  morning's  gray  twilight, 
But  softened  scarce  one  shade  of  night. 
Grown  blacker  n  )W  by  storm-charged  cloud, 
That  gives  to  all  a  sabler  f i.roud. 
The  spirit  of  the  tempest  wakes 
The  roar  of  elements,  that  breaks 
Upon  and  stur;  s  the  startled  ear. 
More  loud,  and  it  would  seem  more  near. 
With  fury  which  the  wild  winds  swell, 
Dash  Montmorency  and  Ou  lie. 
St.  Charles-St.  Thomas-Chaudiere, 
And  further  up  Jacques  Cartier— 
To  mingle  with  the  expansive  flow, 
That  meets  the  ocean  far  below. 
And  massy  ice-bergs  le.  ,nng  down 
From  hcighl  terrific,  or  upthrown 
'Gainst  rocky  shores,  are  wreck'd  and  lost, 

G  2 


78  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

From  Camourasca*s  craggy  shore, 
The  sca-woir's  howl,  the  ceaseless  roar 
From  forest  cave  of  beasts  of  prey, 
Are  heard-— all  nature  seems  to  say, 
'<A  long  farewell  to  quiet's  reign. 
Man !  'neath  thy  sheltering  roof  remain, 

Nor  dare  to  venture  thence,  the  snow 

Falls  fast  above,  lies  deep  below. 

And  thou  may'st  meet  a  'whelming  doom. 

Like  Arab  in  the  red  simoom." 


!,li 


}!« 


But  onward  heedless  all  they  go, 

Of  raging  storm  and  wreathing  snow, 

Nor  are  their  steps  retraced  ; 
Soft,  noiselessly,  along  they  wend, 
Where  Quebec's  rock-girt  walls  ascend, 

But  such  was  Arnold's  haste- 
He  dash'd  himself  upon  St.  Roch, 
Ere  deemed  the  foe  of  coming  shock  :— 

His  pride  was  to  be  first ; 
But  Frazer's  eye  hath  learnt  the  whole— 
The  trumpets  sound,  the  loud  drums  roll, 

Far  gleaming  lightnings  burst  I 
Like  lion  in  his  den  beset. 
They  turn  on  those  who  nearest  threat  5 


TlIK  STORMING  OF  QUEBKC 

Fast  pours  the  vollled  flame, 
On  I  On  I  my  comrades— victory's  breath 
Let  us  respire,  or  sink  in  death  I 
This  Arnold's  fierce  exclaim. 
God  of  the  brave,  still  be  thou  nigh, 

To  string  the  patriot's  arm  I 
There  doth  the  field  of  glory  lie,  ^ 
Where  we  may  win  and  can  but  die. 
And  life  retain'd  in  slavery 
For  us  retains  no  charm. 
There  still  is  room  for  each  a  grave, 
At  least  beneath  yon  wandering  wave. 
Our  names  are  cherish'd-Bunker's  hill, 
And  freedom's  martyrs  there  who  fell 
Are  not  forgot  and  nerve  us  still, 

And  Lexington's  remember'd  well. 
Heaven  for  our  country  is  the  cry— 

The  country  of  great  Warren  slam- 
The  chosen  land  of  liberty— 

And  with  the  word  he  rushed  amain  : 
Reached  Saut  au  Matelot-but  hark  I 

Amidst  the  cry  there  rises  one. 
Which  until  now  I  did  not  mark  : 
It  is—"  My  father  view  thy  son, 

T     .1.:-  u:o  loct  and  fatal  hOUr  ; 


79 


80  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

For  by  my  bosom  Manitou, 
On  more  than  one  death's  form  shall  lower, 

Ere  it  obscure  and  dim  my  view. 
Areskoui,  as  myself  I  prove 

Worthy  the  race  from  which  I  sprung, 
So  let  me  meet  and  share  thy  love. 
My  noble  father's  shades  among. 
Areskoui  1  this  hour  is  thine. 
My  nation's  many  wrongs  and  mine, 
In  dark  oblivion  hence  shall  be. 
Clasped  in  forgetfulness  with  me. 
Areskoui  I  here  the  tumult  grew, 
And  drown'd  the  rest,  if  more  he  drew 
Forth  in  his  descant  wild-but  where 
Is  Arnold'c  blade  ?  not  high  in  air  I 
And  where  his  proudly  nodding  plume? 
The  eagle's  spoils  1  Alas  I  a  gloom 
Hath  overcast  his  fiery  eye, 
His  cap  and  plume  beside  him  lie : 
But  still  within  his  pendant  hand 
He  strains,  though  feebly  strains  the  brand. 
He  bleeds,  he  reels,  and  fainting  falls  5 
A  draught  the  Meeting  breath  recalls. 
Aroused,  he  wildly  rolls  his  eyes- 
Rest  ore  ray  hand  its  hilt,  he  cries. 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

I  thank  not  his  officious  care 
Who  wrench'd  it  thence,  not  one  shall  bear 
Its  weight  till  death  this  arm  impair- 
Nay,  urge  me  not  the  field  to  quit, 
By  Heaven  I  I  will  not  leave  it  yet. 
'Tis  punished  well  this  shattered  bone, 
It  pressed  so  slow  and  idly  on. 
What  I  will  ye  force  me— Morgan,  thou  ? 
Away,  away,  they  haste  him  now, 
But  stormy  wrath  overclouds  his  brow, 
And  scarce  refrains  his  arm  to  turn. 
Vengeful  on  those  by  whom  he's  borne. 

"Thus  far  right  nobly  have  we  strove  :" 
Thus  Morgan—"  Even  now  are  wove 
The  wreaths  of  oak  and  Laurel  twin'd. 
With  which  ere  long  our  brows  we  bind  : 
Green  I  dost  thou  mark  yon  barricade  ;— 
Thy  efTorts  one  platoon  shall  aid." 
Soon  was  he  at  his  column's  head, 
And  to  th'  assault  impetuous  led. 
One  volley  sent  hurled  many  a  foe, 
And  one  received  laid  but  one  low. 
Then  straightv/ay  to  the  parapet 
They  pressed— the  ladders  'gainst  it  set. 


81 


82  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Mounted  and  passed,  and  when  'twas  won, 
The  midnight's  reign  was  scarcely  done. 

Slow  dawned  the  day  to  him  I  ween— 
The  time  to  prove  that  blades  were  keen. 
But  still  among  the  train  he  led, 
There  were  who  wish'd  it,  yet  with  dread. 
For  all  men  are  not  formed  to  bear. 
Their  hearts  up  proudly  'gainst  despair; 
When  over-wearied  nature's  met, 
By  ills  which  every  way  beset. 

Howe'er,  it  came,  that  fatal  morn- 

The  last  of  one  eventful  year. 
Columbia's  proudest  1  which  saw  borne 

Full  many  a  hero  on  his  bier. 
The  first  that  .aw  such  sight— the  last 

That  tyranny  might  tread  nor  feel, 
A  pang  updarted— when  the  past 

And  future  pointed  lead  and  steel ! 
Such  year  must  not  inglorious  close- 
Its  latest  day  in  storms  has  rose. 
And  it  is  welcomed-not  by  note 
Warbled  from  forest  songster's  throat, 
Or  cock  upon  the  heath,  or  bell 
Of  fieldward  wending  herds,  which  tell 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC.      83 

Of  herdsman's  peaceful  care,  but  by 
A  voice  stentorian,  fierce,  and  high  ; 
Which  flew  from  rank  to  rank,  and  thrilled 

An  echo  in  each  freeman's  breast, 
'Till  bursting  thence  the  air  they  filled, 

And  drown'd  the  one  that  woke  their  rest. 
«0n!  on!  in  victory's  narrow  path- 
Look  forward-who  behind  shall  cast 
One  lingering  look  shall  meet  my  wrath, 

One  faltering  step-be  that  his  last. 
Pause  not  o'er  me  if  I  should  fall : 

Aye,  trample  me  beneath  your  feet, 
And  rush  against  the  barrier  wall, 

Which  as  yon  angle's  turned  ye  meet: 
That  gained-ye  join  Montgomery's  ranks, 
Then  Quebec's  yours,  and  each  receives 
His  valour's  meed-his  chieftain's  thanks- 

The  recompense  his  country  gives. 
On  Thayer,  Potterfield,  and  Hethl         ^ 
On  Hendrick,  Gansevoort  and  Green . 
With  me  to  victory  or  to  death, 

Be  but  what  ye  e'er  this  have  been. 
Thus  saying,  Morgan  onward  prest,^^ 

And  furious  led  the -hope  forlorn. 
Oh  I  never  will  the  patriot  cast, 


84 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC 


One  name  of  theirs  away  with  scorn. 
The  corner  soon  was  gained-they  turned- 

When  lo  I  before  their  sight  arrayed, 
In  serried  ranks  and  arms  that  burned, 

Stood  foes,  whose  looks  defiance  bade  1 
From  those  opposing  ranks  stept  one, 

With  lip  of  scorn  and  brow  of  pride. 
It  was  their  leader  Anderson, 

Whose  vaunting  words  are  vainly  plied  : 
Rebels  and  madmen  1  one  and  both 

Submit,  or  now  your  hour  is  come  ; 
Submit,  or  by  your  broken  oath. 

In  one  quick  stroke  on  yonder  drum, 
To  fall  as  stamps  my  foot  on  earth. 

Ye  hear  your  death  knell— then  submit— 
Lay  down  those  arms  so  little  worth. 
And  hope  for  life  and  pardon  yet." 
Stern  Morgan  on  his  course  paused  not,  ^ 

But  snatched  from  comrade  near  his  side 
A  rifle,  and  with  bearing  haught. 

And  cold,  collected  voice  replied  :— 
"  My  aim  ne'er  missed  its  object  yet, 

And  shall  not  now  miss  thee," 
He  raised  the  weapon  with  the  threat, 
And  levelled  gallantly. 


THE  srOUMlNG  OK  dUEBEO. 


85 


The  deed  was  done  as  soon  as  said, 
The  bullet  whistled  as  it  sped, 

And  Anderson  lies  low ! 
Then  he  resumed-"  thus  with  the  dead, 
Consigned  by  freedor^'s  potent  lead. 

Be  each  presumptuous  foe." 
He  flashed  his  sword-«be  this  th.,s.gn 

To  deal  to  those,  fate  like  to  thme. 
Now  louder  grows  the  battle  strife  ; 
With  scores  of  death  each  volley  s  rife. 
Loud  shout  the  fierce  contending  foes : 
They  close-fall  back-again  they  close- 
I!ords  clash-tubes  ring-and  bullets  pour- 
Men  cry  and  groan,  and  cannons  roar : 
But  high  o'er  all  where  peril's  most. 
Soars  Morgan's  voice-himself  a  host. 
Hi^h  over  all  his  sword  is  gleaming. 
Proud  by  his  side  the  banners  streammg . 

But  who  is  yon  of  visage  dark. 

Whose  tube  hath  found  such  frequent  mark? 

Who  springs  undaunted  on  his  foe. 
Fast  following  up  the  glandn^  blow  . 
With  arm  all  bare  and  bloody  red. 
As  streams  the  weapon  o'er  his  head. 

itl 


86  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

«  Areskoui  battle's  God  and  mine, 
I  said  and  say  this  hour  is  thine." 
He  cried—"  Ab-eady  hath  my  arm, 
To  nineteen  sped  their  last  of  harm, 
One  victim  will  I  send  thee  yet. 
Then  rush  on  bristling  bayonet." 
He  forward  sprang  with  horrid  yell. 

His  gory  tomahawk  upraised, 
High  waved  it  o'er  him— fast  it  fell ; 

False  was  the  aim  and  it  but  grazed 
'Gainst  Thayer  in  its  erring  flight. 

Not  such  the  wound  which  that  repaid : 
For  Thayer  drew  and  sheathed  outright. 

In  dark  Outauson's  heart  his  blade. 
Yet  even  as  serpent  darts  his  fang 
In  death  inflicting  deadly  pang, 
He  raised  his  arm— essayed  to  guide 

A  death  to  him  whose  hand  was  red 
With  drop  of  his— it  glauced  aside— 

His  spirit  with  the  eff'ort  fled. 
But  harmless  it  to  earth  again 
Fell  not— but  opened  Ogden's  vein. 
But  hark  1  there  spreads  a  joyful  cry— 
The  British  yield— they  fly !  they  fly  I 
Haste  I  haste  ye  now  ere  they  may  find, 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC.      87 

A  screen  yon  barricade  behind. 
Too  late  I  tis  gained  and  they  renew 

More  fierce  and  sharp  the  conflict  there  : 
And  many  a  corpse  that  spot  shall  strew, 

Ere  these  shall  yield,  or  those  shall  spare. 
Now  Humphrey  1  all  your  courage  rouse, 
Hendrick,  advance  I—stand— Dearborn, — 

stand  1 
Shame  to  the  man  whom  shelterir.g  house. 
Shall  prove  in  danger's  hour  unmanned. 
So  spake  their  chief,  and  first  to  brave. 

And  dare  all  danger— led  the  van  : 
And  let  the  bullets  round  him  rave, 
His  soul  shall  soar  as  it  began  I 
On-on-through  showers  of  deaths  they  rush 

Like  mountain  torrent  to  the  plain. 
But  all  their  fury  may  not  crush. 

Or  force  them  from  their  hold-'tis  vain  . 
That  like  the  ocean's  billows  high, 

Again  the  'gainst  the  barrier  break  : 
Tis  vain  I  they  fight  'neath  Carleton's  eye, 

Not  one  is  he  whom  fear  may  shake. 
Not  one  is  he  to  yield  the  fight, 

Whilst  courage  yet  may  check  its  course  ; 
Well  had  he  strove  thro'  that  dread  night, 


88  THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 

Nor  yet  declines  his  spirit's  force. 
Now  louder  grows  the  battle  cry- 
Columbia  here-Brittania  there- 
Words  which  or  these  or  those  to  fly 
Forbid,  but  bid  them  all  thxngs  dare. 

And  banner  folds  are  proudly  wavmg, 

O'er  crested  warriors'  desperate  tread. 
Who  at  each  step  fierce  deaths  are  bravmg. 

O'er  those  whom  death  no  more  may  dread. 

Their  bosoms  kindle  at  the  sight, 
Revenge  adds  fuel  to  their  flame: 

«  Brethren  1  the  last  and  solemn  nte. 

Not  now  from  brethren's  hands  ye  claim. 
But  lofty  deeds  as  bold  and  daring. 

As  those  which  ye  essayed  and  died  . 
We  hear  and  we  obey  uncaring,       ^^ 
How  freely  flows  the  purple  tide. 

A  thousand  tubes  are  level  flung- 

A  thousand  triggers  backward  sprung- 

The  loud  report  afar  has  rung- 

In  caverns  wild  and  deep. 
Less  loud  the  distant  echoes  ring, 
Remote  and  more  remote  they  spring. 

But  must  not-shall  not  sleep '. 


THE  ST01l^^NG  OF  QUEBEC.  «9 

Another  peal  forbids  their  rest- 
Anotner  p  confest, 

Scarce  have  yon  rocks  tn 
Another  close  on  it  is  prest; 

Another  and  another . 
Jes  ant  from  their  lodgments  dark 

Tr^iftballs  seeU  the  fated  marU. 

That  earth  is  not  the  mother 
Of  many  a  form  laid  prostrate  now, 

.nlv  eve,  unhlenching  brow, 
Whose  manly  eye,  u 

1  tViat  could  not  bow, 
■noenoke  a  soul  that  cou. 

The  sun  of  liberty  . 
Not  this  her  consecrated  soil, 

•    <i,piv  seroent-coil, 
Where  tyrants  m  Ihei.  serp 

Forbade  the  world  be  free. 

Much  rests  upon  this  dubious  day. 
Contested  high  and  stern .      ^ 

How  ebbs  the  tide  ^f  We 


90 


THE  STORMING  OF  QUEBEC. 


Thirst  scorches  up  the  vein. 
How  comes  the  film  upon  the  eye, 
How  reels  the  world,  how  all  things  fly- 
In  stupor  then  awhile  to  lie, 
And  startled,  wake  again 
As  from  a  dreadful  dream,  and  meet 
No  friend  to  assist,  no  voice  to  greet ; 

None  save  the  battle  roar  I 
That  drowns  all  groans— then  spent,  relapse 
Quiescent  on  the  snow  that  wraps  5 
And  feeling  wakes  no  more. 

The  morn  hath  dispersed  the  gloom  of  night. 
How  now  with  Morgan  speeds  the  fight? 
Deep  maddening  still  the  death  fires  light, 

And  every  sinew's  plied. 
Right  well  have  toiled  his  riflemen  5 
Through  British  embrasures  their  ken, 

Has  many  a  foe  espied. 
And  cut  them  down  as  soon  as  seen— 
Their  aim  was  seldom  known  I  ween, 

To  miss  the  mark  it  took. 
But  their  opposers  gather  fast- 
Back  rolled  upon  the  northern  blast. 
The  battle  cloud  is  broke  : 


THE  STORMING  01     iUEPEC.  »» 

Shows  wall  r,nd  parapet  well  mant,.d- 

On  every  side  they      .  ong  • 
O  heaven -aid  that  galUnt  band- 
Not  long  beneath  tie  fire  they  stand, 

They  must  r' treau  ei(  long. 
ThelU  arcnu.nbcd  and  stiff  w^>  COM, 

i„      hpi-     ouraee  talis, 
Their  ardour  cools— hei      "»    5 

They  falter  now  no  longer  bold: 
bL  Morgan's  thundering  trump  recalls. 

They  rally-and  ^^^^'^^ZlT^^^^^^^^- 
Lowers  black  as  those  m  storms 

^.^Lk'methinks  that  voice  so  loud, 
"Cisabeartunbent-unbending. 

«The  ladders  to  the  parapet  I  ^^ 

The  ladders',  plant  them  qu.ck^  there. 

Kigbt  promptly  are  they. .^-^^ 

But  who  to  mount  those  wa 
At  once  a  score  of  trumpets  bayed 

A  war  note  shrill  and  wide . 

Then  Potteraeld,  thou  undismayed 

Wert  first  to  tempt  that  escalade- 

Heth  soon  was  at  thy  side.        _ 
Nor,  Hendrick,wert  thou  of  the  last. 

Whose  shadows  were  upsbooting  cast, 
Upon  those  mural  stones. 


